


Rent

by jaxx69



Category: Pet Shop Boys
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxx69/pseuds/jaxx69
Summary: When Chris visits Neil to stay for a weekend and ends up staying for a year, he doesn't only find a new home. Throughout a turbulent year full of new challenges and opportunities, he also finds himself. - Pre PSB, set 1981-1983.
Relationships: Chris Lowe/Neil Tennant
Comments: 152
Kudos: 63





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to RENT - my great epic. My magnum opus. The story you didn't know you needed and which you probably don't need at all indeed. 
> 
> Since I wrote “Opportunities“ some time has passed and this time, I've done the research. I am TRYING to keep this as canon as I can and include some things which have actually happened (you'll see what I mean). I saw that interview where Chris and Neil confirm they have been living together at some point and this here is the result. 
> 
> Neil says “You came to stay for a weekend and stayed for a year“ - this story explores what might or might not have happened during that time. I found out later that they didn't actually live together that early but in 1984/85, but whatever. It's fiction after all, right? And that also means, I do NOT own these characters. 
> 
> A special THANK YOU goes to my friend Mel who is doing the beta for this. This story wouldn't be what it is without you!

It’s a chilly Friday afternoon in early December and a young man stands outside an apartment building on King’s Road in Chelsea, London. Next to him he’s got at least five bags and some other stuff piled up on the pavement. He keeps checking his watch - he’s too early. _Not before 3 pm_ is what Neil has told him, as he’s got work to do. It is now two minutes past three. He doesn't want to disturb Neil in case he’s still working, so he hangs around and tries to put up with the curious and annoyed looks the people give him when they manoeuvre past his bags and boxes. Some probably think he is some weird homeless person. But what the hell.

At 3:18 pm he finally forces himself to ring the doorbell. He feels nervous. It doesn't take long before the little buzz sounds and he pushes the door open. Neil’s flat is on the second floor, so for now he leaves most of his belongings behind, hoping nobody will pinch anything, and only takes the two bags with him he’s holding in his hands. 

“Hi,“ he says, when he arrives at Neil’s door. His cheeks are red, partly due to the cold, but also because he’s really getting the heebie-jeebies now. There’s a reason he’s been standing outside for more than half an hour with all these things, and he will have to tell Neil about it. 

“Good timing,“ Neil says. “I’ve just put everything away for today.“ He points at the two big bags. “Chris, what’s all that?“

“Oh, erm, just some stuff,“ Chris answers. He clears his throat. Now is definitely not the right time to address this, the reason for his nervousness, the reason why he’s actually asked Neil to come over this weekend. First he needs to rescue the other things from the street. “I have a bit more stuff downstairs, to be honest.“ 

“You better go fetch it then,“ Neil says. “Someone might steal it. Here, give me that.“ He takes the two bags and brings them inside, then stands in the doorway as Chris heads back down again. He has to go twice to get everything. Every time he comes back up Neil is watching him, fascinated, but without bothering to help. Typical Neil. _Lazy bugger_ , Chris thinks on his final way upstairs and he gives him a glare which he hopes says something like _Thanks for helping me, dickhead._

“That is a lot,“ Neil comments. “How much more do you… wait, is that your trombone?“

“Oh. Yeah. Thought we might as well use it.“ Chris knows how stupid this sounds, but he doesn't know what else to say. Since their first meeting, they’ve always talked about writing songs together and they’ve already come up with some melodies and lyrics, but only with Neil’s guitar and synthesiser. Who writes a song using a trombone? Seriously.

“You’ve never brought your trombone before,“ Neil notices. 

“Maybe that’s why we haven't written a proper song yet. Because I didn't bring the trombone.“

Neil frowns at him. He doesn't buy it. Which is understandable, because the last time they spoke about the trombone Chris might have said that he’d rather juggle with hot coals or with hedgehogs, naked, in the middle of Piccadilly, than play the trombone. 

“Well, been thinking about going to Blackpool tomorrow, so I thought I’d take a few things. Dunno for how long, y’know. And, erm, I thought maybe we’d come up with something brilliant, so I brought the trombone,“ he says. 

“Well, you never know,” Neil says and he doesn't sound convinced at all. “How did you get all these things here? You can’t possibly have carried all of it.“

“Taxi,“ Chris replies. Which is actually the truth, but he makes it sound as if it wasn't a big deal. He doesn't mention that it took ages to get everything in and out the car. Or the awkward questions the taxi driver asked him. _Where’re you off to? Got kicked out by the missus? Hey, nice trumpet._ In fact he really doesn't want to talk about all these things yet. Maybe later, or maybe tomorrow. 

“Anyway. Fancy a brew?“ Chris opens one of the bags and takes something out. Then he smiles happily. “I got biscuits.”  
Neil makes the tea and they sit in the living room, eating biscuits and chatting about music, work, and more music. They joke around and the atmosphere relaxes again. They’ve only known each other for a few months but Chris feels like it has been years already. He likes being with Neil. He likes his calm and down-to-earth attitude, the fact that he seems to have an opinion on every record in the entire universe and his dry humour. And the fact that he likes to eat, which is one of Chris’s favourite things to do. Neil likes to try out new restaurants, especially the fancy ones, but they’ve also cooked together and it’s always been amazing. But his interest in music and songwriting is what Chris values the most about him. Because of his work at _Smash Hits_ , Neil always has access to records and they’ve already spent whole weekends in Neil’s apartment, listening to music they like and music they both find awful. Neil also owns a synthesiser, which Chris is very happy to use. As an intern in an architect’s office, he doesn’t have the money to buy one himself. And Neil doesn't seem to mind his company either, so Chris has quickly become a regular visitor. Besides, he’s always happy to get away from his flatmates. His conversations with Neil are so much more inspiring and mentally stimulating than talking to anyone else he knows. 

“I guess you’re staying overnight,“ Neil says at some point around 8 o’clock. The only annoying thing about him is his strict sleeping schedule, he almost always goes to bed around 8 pm and then he gets up way too early. 

“If you don't mind,“ Chris replies. For a moment he fears Neil could say no, but why would he. He’s stayed overnight many times before. 

“Course not,“ Neil answers. “You know where everything is, make yourself at home. I’ll find you a blanket.“

“Thanks mate.“ Chris is browsing through one of the latest _Smash Hits_ issues and he’s reopened the jar with the biscuits. He avoids eye contact. He has not brought up the topic and now it is too late, so in the morning he will have to do it, no matter what. He really meant to talk to Neil a lot earlier about all this, but he’s never found the right moment.  
Neil returns with a blanket and a pillow and then excuses himself to go to the bathroom. When he comes back, he just says _Good night_ and disappears in his bedroom. Once he is gone, Chris puts the magazine away, leans back on the sofa, shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. He has no idea what to say to Neil without revealing that he is a complete loser. But he decides it’s better to think about it in the morning.

________

When Chris wakes up, he can already hear Neil in the kitchen and he wonders how someone can be up that early on a Saturday. His watch tells him that it is half past 8. He would like to sleep for another hour or three but it feels awkward to sleep while Neil is awake, so he gets up.

“Morning,“ he says with a yawn. 

“Morning, early bird,“ Neil answers. “Want some breakfast?“ 

“Yeah, absolutely.“ 

“Coffee?“

“You know me too well,“ Chris says with a smile. Watching Neil making coffee somehow warms his heart. 

Neil hands him a mug and they sit down to enjoy some fresh toast with jam. He talks about some things he’s read in the newspaper but Chris can’t really concentrate. His mind is somewhere else, so he just says “Mhm“ or “Oh yeah?“ every now and then. 

After a while Neil stops talking and gives him his journalistic stare, that sharp look that could make one confess a murder. “Are you alright?“ he asks and tilts his head a bit. 

“Yeah, sure, fine,“ Chris says and quickly stuffs some toast in his mouth, so he cannot talk anymore. 

But nobody tricks Neil. He knows when people either lie or hide something. He doesn't take his eyes off of Chris anymore. 

“What?“ Chris snaps.

“So, did you say you’re going to Blackpool today?“

Chris bites his lower lip and fixates his eyes to the ground. He knows he’s trapped. “Maybe,“ he says. Then he inhales deeply. There’s no way around spilling the tea now anyway. Time to confess. “OK, look. I gotta tell ye something.”

“What is it?“ 

Chris sighs. “I, erm… I got kicked out of me flat,“ he says eventually. He’s nervously playing around with his fingers. 

“Oh.“ Neil sounds surprised. “How come?“

“The landlord is a bloody arsehole,“ Chris answers. “He wants the place for himself or his son or whatever. So he kicked me and me flatmates out.“

“When did he tell you that he wants you out?“ Neil asks. 

“September.“

“ _September?!_ “ 

“Don’t you get all dramatic now! It’s a bloody mess already. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find an affordable place in this damn city?“ Chris doesn't know where to look. The last thing he needs is a lecture. Something Neil is quite good at. But Neil’s not giving him one. Instead he smiles at him, not exactly pitiful, but a bit worried. 

“And now…?“

Chris shrugs. “I can’t afford anything. I can’t even afford to live inside a closet.“ 

“Why didn't you tell me earlier?“

“Because I thought I’d find something. And I didn't want to look like a loser. Which I do now. God, this city is ridiculous.“

Neil thinks about it. “That’s why you have your things here,“ he says, and suddenly he looks upset. “Wait. Does that mean you’re going back to Blackpool, like, for good?“

Chris shrugs his shoulders again. “Dunno where to go. When I moved to London I gave up the room I had at the campus in Liverpool, so Blackpool’s my only option. If I don't find a place to stay, I’ll have to go back there for now and somehow commute to Liverpool to go to uni. But I really don't wanna do that. And I seriously want to finish this internship. So if you know anyone…“ He pauses and gathers up all his courage. “Or maybe, if I could stay, erm… here…“

“Here?“

“Only for a week! Or less. Maybe you can help me find a place. Neil, please, I don't want to go back to Blackpool.“ Chris sounds a lot more desperate than he wants to sound, but he actually _is_ desperate. London has started to feel like home, he’s met Neil and some other nice people and the nightlife and club scene are, by far, better than anything he’s ever seen before. But he knows that Neil is one of the main reasons he doesn't want to leave. He’s never met anyone before with that same enthusiasm for songwriting and music and quite often he thinks that maybe, in the future, they could actually make music together. So going back to Blackpool is not an option. And Neil is his only chance - he doesn't have an awful lot of people he’s really close to and most of them are students. Neil is the only person he knows who has a flat to himself. 

Neil sighs. “Well, I guess you could stay for now,“ he says. “I do have a spare key somewhere.“ 

Chris’s heart skips a beat. “Really?,“ he says. “I mean - really really?“ 

Neil chuckles. “Can’t just let you bugger off to Blackpool again, can I,“ he answers. “No, seriously, I mean… I didn't quite expect this, but…“

Chris spends the next five minutes going on and on with exuberant proclamations of his enormous gratitude, until Neil finally has enough and tells him to shut up. 

“It’s _only_ temporary,“ he says. “I don’t think that my landlord will be enthralled when he hears I have a lodger.“

“Only temporary,“ Chris repeats. “Sure.“ He cannot believe Neil has said yes, but he is willing to become the best flatmate the world has ever seen. Not that he’s been a bad flatmate before, but when you’re living with a bunch of students who consider household chores a trivial irrelevancy and therefore avoid doing them most of the time, you stop caring too, after a while. Neil’s place in contrast is flawless and Chris wants to do his best to keep it that way. He doesn't want Neil to think he’s a typical lazy student. 

“What about your internship?“

“I’ll be there until May. And if I don’t finish this, I don’t even know if I can continue with the university course. And then me mum’s going to slaughter me. Oh, I can pay you some rent, too, if that-“

“Well, we will see how it goes,“ Neil cuts him off. “It won’t make a big difference whether you’re here or not.“

“I… I don’t know what to say,“ Chris says. “Honestly, thank you.“ He cannot believe Neil really has said yes - turning up with all his stuff was such a big risk, and if he had said no, he’d have to buy himself a one-way ticket to Blackpool. And it would have been the end of his internship, the end of his university career, the end of pretty much everything. For a while neither of them says anything and Chris begins to worry that Neil has already changed his mind. 

“Ok then“, Neil says eventually. “I suppose I’ll free up some space for your things in the bathroom and somewhere to put your clothes.“

“OK,“ Chris says, relieved. “You’re saving my goddamn life.“ He pauses. “There is one thing I need to do, though.“

“Which is…?“

Chris looks down. “Ring me mum.“

There is a little chuckle from Neil. “Ring your mum.“

“Shut the fuck up,“ Chris says, but he has to laugh himself. “She wants to know if I’m coming home or not.“ 

“You know where the phone is.” Neil sounds amused. 

With a glare Chris gets up and goes to the living room, then he sits down next to the little table with the telephone and dials the number. Neil has followed him and sits on the sofa, with a fresh cup of coffee in his hands, watching him. 

“Why you think you gotta watch me you goddamn - Oh hi mum!“ Chris chirps when his mother picks up the phone. He can see Neil smirking. Bloody twerp.

“Christopher!“ his mum yells. “I’ve been worried sick! Goddamn you. Where ARE you? Are you alright?“

“Yeahyeahyeah, it’s all good,“ Chris says, with an eye on Neil.

“You said you’d ring yesterday! YESTERDAY! And I can’t even ring you because I dunno where y’are, can I?!”

“Sorry mum, I… Sorry.“

“So are you coming home? Please tell me you’re not.“

“No. I’m not coming. I’m with a friend.“

“A friend,“ she replies. “Anyone I know?“ 

“No, it’s not…“ He pauses. He doesn't even want to ask his mother how she would know any of his friends from London. 

“Alright,“ she says. “Let me speak to him then.“

Chris feels himself blushing. He didn't really expect this to happen. 

“Yeah, sure.“ He looks at Neil, covering the phone with one hand. “She wants to speak to you.“

Neil almost chokes on his coffee. “What, why?“

“Dunno,“ Chris hisses. “Now move your arse over here.“ 

Neil gets up and sits down next to Chris on the floor, where they hold a short conversation without any words. 

_You better be nice_ , Chris says. 

_I’m always nice _, Neil answers. _But I didn’t sign up for this!___

__“Oh goddammit,“ he says then, takes the phone and clears his throat. “Hi, Mrs Lowe.“_ _

__Chris moves closer to him, hoping to hear what his mother has to say, but Neil moves away from him and gives him a look that says _Just let me take care of this_. _ _

__“Tennant,“ he says. So she’s asked for his name._ _

__A pause._ _

__“Looks like it,“ Neil says. “Well, until he finds a new place for himself.“ He listens to her talking again._ _

__“Oh yeah, I’ve got a spare room. Wanted to rent it out anyway, to be honest.“ He turns round to Chris and points to the sofa. Chris, meanwhile, is amazed how easily Neil has told this lie._ _

__Another pause. “I do, yes. I’m an editor at _Smash Hits_.“ Then a slightly offended look appears on his face and he adds: “That’s a well-known magazine.“ He rolls his eyes. “No, only myself. And Chris now, I guess.“ They exchange another quick look. Then Chris’s mother talks again and suddenly Neil snorts and turns his head away from the telephone. He’s biting his tongue, trying very, very hard not to laugh, and Chris almost jumps up. _What_ , he asks him silently, _WHAT?!_ But Neil doesn't take any notice. _ _

__“I’m OK with it,“ Neil says, once he’s able to talk again, ignoring Chris completely now. “Oh, I’m 27. Uhum. Yeah, I do. Yes. No, I don’t smoke. Yes. I do.“ Then he gives her his full name, address and telephone number. After he’s done that, smiles fondly at Chris. “I know,“ he says. Chris wonders what it is Neil apparently knows about him._ _

__“And you, Mrs Lowe,“ he says and finally hangs up. Then he grins._ _

__“So, Chrissy…“_ _

__“Oh GOD, she did NOT say that!“ Chris covers his face with his hands and moans. Why, why did his mother have to call him Chrissy? Now he’ll forever be Chrissy._ _

__Neil laughs. “Oh come on, I’m sorry, but it’s too funny.“_ _

__“What else did she say?“_ _

__“She’s just a bit worried about you, that’s all. She was very nice.“_ _

__“And you… you said I know. What is it you know?“_ _

__“Oh, she said you’re stubborn. You’d rather sleep under a bridge than come back. She’s right, you are stubborn.“ Neil smiles again._ _

__Chris nods. He feels overwhelmed and exhausted and he would really love to go back to sleep for a while, now that he knows where he will actually spend the night. And he still feels sort of ashamed, because the whole situation is so silly. Neil seems to notice he’s feeling uncomfortable and puts his hand on Chris’s arm._ _

__“Hey“, Neil says. “It’s gonna be fine. I’ve never had a flatmate so far, but… Don’t worry.“ He gives Chris his most infectious smile and Chris can’t help but give one back. It’s gonna be fine, he thinks._ _

__“But don’t leave dirty dishes all over the place,“ Neil adds. “I hate that.“_ _

__“I promise I’ll do the washing up,“ Chris answers, still smiling, and a warm feeling, originating in his chest, takes over his whole body._ _


	2. 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Neil are getting used to their new lives as flatmates and one Friday evening, Chris suggests to go out together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYYSSS, first of all, thank you sooo much for all your wonderful comments - they mean so much to me! THANK YOU. 
> 
> Side note: Darren is a fictional character. I have NO idea what the names of Neil's colleagues were. But he'll be a recurring character, so he needed a name.

It only takes a couple of days for them to settle into a new routine and Chris feels like these new living arrangements create a whole new level of intimacy between them, but it’s not awkward at all. He was worried about that, because they’ve always got along so well with each other, right from the start, he didn't want to mess this friendship up - being friends is one thing, but living together is quite another. But he soon discovers that there was no reason to be worried about anything. Despite the fact that Neil has the tendency to be fussy about certain things (like the times when one is supposed to have dinner, or tea, or that raisins and dates clearly shouldn't be found in a banana cake, only a hooligan would do that, right?) he really does everything he can to make Chris feel comfortable. He even promises to ask around in the office if anyone knows of a new place for Chris or has any advice on how to find one, and he does, but he’s unsuccessful. He’s also made sure that Chris has his own drawer in the big dresser in the bedroom to store his clothes and he’s given him his spare key, so Chris can come and go whenever he wishes. He wants him to feel at home and Chris can’t help but wonder why he puts so much effort in it. It’s not the most common thing to move in with someone you’ve only known for a few months. Chris has always felt really comfortable in Neil’s company, so that he’s never really thought of him as an acquaintance, he’s always considered him a friend. But he didn't know if Neil felt the same. Now it looks like he does, and it makes Chris feel very happy and touched. 

Neil is the first one to get up in the morning, so he’ll go to the bathroom first and take a shower while Chris still sleeps. When Chris comes out of the bathroom later, there will already be fresh coffee and breakfast in the kitchen. The first morning he feels almost embarrassed to find that Neil has made breakfast for both of them, but Neil just shrugs his shoulders and says that it doesn’t make any difference whatsoever if he makes it for one or for two people, and that’s that sorted. After breakfast they leave the house together, which also feels weird for one or two days, then it becomes a new everyday thing. 

Only the times they come back vary and when Chris comes in first, he’ll try to clean up as much as possible or do some domestic chores, to contribute at least something. When there isn’t much to do, he’ll tinkle around on Neil’s synthesiser. Everything is fine. And without either of them really noticing it, a whole week goes past.  
When Chris comes home on Friday afternoon, Neil is already there, sat at his desk. On Fridays he finishes earlier, but usually does some more work at home. Chris walks in, puts his coat on a hook and takes his shoes off. Neil doesn’t look up, he's resting his head in his hands and stares at a piece of paper in front of him. Chris watches him for a moment. Neil is highly concentrated. He takes his work very seriously and he loves what he does, for sure. For a moment Chris asks himself why a man like Neil even bothers to hang out with him. Neil is so organised, sophisticated, posh even. He’s very determined and a bit imperious sometimes, he doesn’t like it when people mess around. Why is this man friends with a very un-posh architect student who got kicked out of his flat and hasn’t got a clue what to do with his life? 

“Hey,“ Chris says and Neil spins around, startled. 

“Oh,“ he says, “blimey, didn’t hear you come in.“ He takes his glasses off and gives them a quick polish.

“’s alright,“ Chris answers. “Almost done?“

“Yeah, yeah, just finishing. Had a nice day?“ He puts his glasses back on. 

Nobody has ever asked Chris before if he’s had a nice day. “Uneventful,“ he says. “Hey, I was wondering, erm… You wanna go out tonight?“ 

“Out?“

“Out. I usually go out on Friday evenings.“ 

“Oh, yes, you do, don’t you,“ Neil says, looking at the paper again. They’ve been out together once before, but Neil is not as much into going to clubs as Chris. He prefers a nice restaurant. The one time they were out he had seemed to enjoy himself, though.

“We could go get dinner somewhere first,“ Chris says. “It’s on me. You’ve let me sleep here for a week now, I could at least get us dinner and a couple drinks.“

“It’s been a week already?“

Chris nods. 

“Well then,“ Neil says. “Why not indeed. I know a place not far from here where they do an excellent _entrecôte_.“ And when Chris frowns and says _A bloody what?_ he gives him an amiable smile.

________

Chris learns that an _entrecôte_ is actually something very nice and they both enjoy a fine glass of red wine with it. During dinner they chit-chat and Neil complains about their newest intern, who doesn’t even know how to make a proper cup of coffee.

“You should have seen it,“ he says, “it was all watery. You know, like when you do the washing up and all the soap is gone eventually and the water is dirty. It had _that_ colour.“ He clicks his tongue indignantly.

After he’s finished his rant, Chris tells him about what he’s been doing at the architect’s office and that he’s currently working on a staircase. Neil seems impressed. Chris usually doesn’t talk a lot about what he is doing at work, because he doesn’t consider it very interesting, or something Neil could be interested in. But he is, in fact, and Chris almost feels guilty that he assumed such a thing. Neil wants to know what kind of a staircase, inside a house or outside, the shape, what needs to be taken into consideration, everything. Or maybe it’s the journalist speaking, who knows how to ask the right questions. 

When they ask the waiter for the bill, Neil looks at Chris. “You don’t have to pay, if you don't have enough,“ he says with a low voice. 

“I’ll be offended,“ Chris answers. “It’s fine, really. I recently moved in with this chap who lets me sleep on his floor for free.“ 

Neil smirks at him. “Sounds like a smashing chap,“ he says and Chris pays for the two of them. “I would have offered you to move in earlier, had I known it meant you’d pay for my dinner.“

They leave the restaurant and Neil seems to be excited to move on. “So, where’d you usually go?”

“There is a really cool bar in Islington,“ Chris says. “Angel Station. Wanna go?“

“Yes! _Allons-y_!“ 

Chris decides not to ask. He has got used to Neil using French expressions or words sometimes and he never understands any of them, but he’s given up on asking him every time. 

They take the tube over to Angel and when they enter the bar, Chris is immediately greeted by a bunch of people, some of them eyeing Neil suspiciously. He introduces him as a friend but decides not to mention that he is also his flatmate now, as he wants to see if Neil says it. He doesn’t. 

“You know lots of people,“ Neil notices. 

“Yeah, I’m a bit infamous, I’m afraid,“ Chris says with a laugh. “You want a beer?“

“I’ll have a wine,“ Neil answers. “Red, a _Pinot noir_ , if they have it.“ Chris orders their drinks. He has to decide between two different red wines and he is not completely sure if what he orders is a _Pinot noir_ , but Neil doesn't complain. 

“Music’s good here,“ Neil says. He’s leaning against the counter, watching people, and Chris is watching him. It is funny how Neil almost doesn’t fit in here with his geeky glasses, his meticulously buttoned up shirt and his glass of wine, and yet he stands there like he owns the place. And people seem to notice. Chris notices several people looking at Neil, curiously. 

“Look at them,“ Neil says after a while. “They don't even dare smile at you. They're terrified.“

“Why, do you want to chat someone up?“ Chris quips. 

“Would be slightly crowded at home then, wouldn’t it,“ Neil replies and winks at him. “Remind me about this later, will you? I think I got an idea for some more lyrics. Not the chatting up, but the people being scared to smile at you. But I don’t know yet.“

Chris says he’ll try to remind himself to remind Neil to write down whatever he’s got in mind. He finishes his beer, while Neil isn't even halfway through his wine, and orders a second one. And the alcohol does what it always does to him, it makes him chatty. So some of the thoughts that have been sitting on his mind take their chance to break free. 

“I just wanted to say, I know I said I’d only stay for a weekend or a week or so,“ he says, chuckling nervously, “but, erm, I still don’t know where to… you know, I mean…“

Neil laughs. “Shut up, I won’t kick you out. We’ll find somewhere for you again, don’t worry. And so far it’s OK, isn’t it?“ 

”Oh, yeah, absolutely,“ Chris says. “But, I mean, I will keep looking. Just so that you know. You might want to have your place for yourself again.“

“Yeah,“ Neil says. “If I ever have the urge to take someone home with me, I’ll let you know and get you a hotel room.“

Chris is afraid that he blushes, but Neil probably can’t see it anyway in the dimmed light. It’s the thought of Neil having sex with someone that makes him blush. He cannot imagine Neil having sex with anyone. What kind of woman would he be into? Blonde? Brunette? He knows that Neil’s last girlfriend has been long gone, she left him long before they met, but he doesn't know the ins and outs. 

They spend another couple of hours at the bar before they decide to go back home. Chris still considers it very early, it is only half past midnight, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure if he wants Neil to know where he really spends his Friday nights when he’s out. 

They stand at the underground platform and wait for the train to arrive. There are the occasional nighthawks wandering around at the platform, but also a few rather dodgy individuals. 

“Don’t really like being here at this time o’night,“ Chris admits. He feels the alcohol, but he is not drunk. 

“I thought you do this every week,“ Neil says. 

”Doesn’t mean I like taking the tube after midnight, or after dusk.“

“Well, London after dark is always a bit terrifying. But you haven’t seen Newcastle yet.“

“Wouldn’t call Blackpool the safest place on earth either. Or Liverpool.“

“So is this place where you always go, this bar?“ Neil asks. 

“Yeah, usually, and a club in Charing Cross, sometimes,“ Chris says without thinking about it. 

“Oh! And you don’t wanna go there today?“

“Nah. Tired“, Chris lies. He’s a bad liar. 

“Charing Cross, Charing Cross,“ Neil murmurs to himself. Then the penny drops. “Wait. Not _Heaven_ , is it?“

Chris scolds himself. How could he believe Neil wouldn't figure it out? He works for a music magazine. He knows where the famous clubs are. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s the one,“ he says. He can’t deny it now anyway. 

“That’s a gay club, isn’t it?“ It’s not a real question. Neil sounds like he already knows the answer. 

“Yeah, but, well. Not exclusively. Lots of my friends hang out there, is all.“ 

Neil nods and he doesn’t dig deeper. And then the train comes and disturbs the conversation. They’re both happy to get away from the station and back to Chelsea. 

Chris almost immediately flops down on the sofa when they come in while Neil goes and brushes his teeth first, then he goes to the kitchen and comes back with two glasses of water. He hands one to Chris. 

“Next time,“ he says before he leaves Chris to himself, “take me to _Heaven_. Never actually been there, but a lot of people I’ve interviewed have. I’ve always been wondering what it’s like.“

Chris is not sure if he actually wants to do that, or what Neil’s intentions are. Is it his interest in the club and music scene in general or in… something else? Something he doesn't know about him? But who is he to judge. There are a lot of things he doesn't know about himself yet, either.

________

It turns out that Neil is really persistent about going to Heaven. So another week goes past just like the one prior and they find themselves on the tube again, on their way to Charing Cross. It is a cold evening and they’re both wearing nothing but t-shirts underneath their winter coats, in prospect of the hot and sticky club air they’ll soon embrace. Once they get out of the station, they hurry to the club before they get too cold.

They get in without any trouble and leave their coats at the cloakroom. Neil looks around like a critic, as if he was to write a review about the location. At least he doesn’t seem to be horrified, not at all. Like he feels superior to everybody else there, rather. 

They get drinks and sit at the bar for a while. Chris hasn’t spotted anyone he knows yet and Neil is taking in the scenery, the dancing bodies, the flashing light, the smell of sweat, smoke and alcohol. 

“So this is where you spend your time,“ he notes. 

“Not all the time. But the music’s good, innit.“ 

Neil has to admit that it is indeed. 

“I’d like to write songs with the potential to be played here,“ Chris says suddenly. He doesn't say it directly to Neil, the thought just pops up in his mind and leaves his mouth. 

“It’s not impossible,“ Neil answers. 

“It’s a dream. You gotta be really good. _Really_ good.“

Neil looks at him. “You are really good,“ he says then. “Do you actually know that?“

Chris doesn't know what to say. It’s the first time Neil has said something like that, and hearing it makes him grow at least an inch. He’s heard before he was good, but not from someone like Neil, who is such a picky perfectionist when it comes to music, and who is known for writing brutally honest reviews, which often are not very flattering. 

“Who says they won’t play a song here one day written by Chris Lowe,“ Neil goes on. 

“And Neil Tennant,“ Chris adds. “Can’t do it without you. You’ve got the brains.“ He sips his beer. 

Neil smiles. “Well, at least you’ve got the looks,“ he answers and takes a sip from his drink too. Chris wonders what he means, but he doesn't ask. Instead he excuses himself for a moment and heads to the toilets. 

He doesn't like it in there. It never actually smells clean and quite often you walk in and either find some guys doing it in a stall or right in front of everyone, or you watch them take any sorts of substances Chris can’t even name, or, and this is by far the worst, someone has vomited. When he comes in now he’s lucky and there’s only one other bloke there who leaves as soon as he’s done what he needed to do. Chris looks at himself in the mirror over the sink. He considers his appearance pretty ordinary. He’s wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of jeans, nothing special. Not like Neil, who seems to attract the looks of everybody wherever he goes. He’s like a lantern and all these people buzz around him like moths. 

Chris washes his hands and makes his way back, but when he reaches the bar, he sees that Neil is talking to someone. He stops and watches them interact. Neil sits on a bar-stool, resting both of his elbows on the counter behind him. Chris can see the guy who stands next to him say something and Neil leans over to him, so the guy can speak into his ear. And he can see a cheeky smile on Neil’s face. Then he answers right into the guy’s ear and they both laugh. 

Chris feels really weird and out of place all of a sudden. Should he interrupt them? Why shouldn’t he? He asks himself if the guy is trying to flirt with Neil and if Neil is a) getting it and b) liking it and c) flirting back. Then he walks over to them.

“Ah, Chris,“ Neil says and he turns away from the guy. “You wouldn’t believe it. You take me here, to the deepest, darkest London, and I meet a colleague. I can't go anywhere and have some peace and quiet, can I.“ He laughs. 

Chris eyeballs the guy. 

“Oh, that’s Darren,“ Neil says. “He’s one of our photographers at _Smash Hits_. Darren, Chris, a friend of mine.“

Chris notices that Neil once again hasn't mentioned that he is his flatmate. 

“Well, I’ll not bother you guys any longer,“ Darren says and he is eyeing Chris from head to toe. Chris can imagine that he is wondering what a guy like Neil does with a guy like him at a gay club. 

He’s asking himself the same question. “Just couldn't believe my own eyes when I walk in here and see this face, here, at this godforsaken place. Anyway guys, have a great evening.“ A wink, and he disappears in the crowd.

“Unbelievable,“ Neil says and shakes his head. 

“Are you in trouble now?“ Chris asks. “Because he’s seen you here?“

“God, no,“ Neil declines, with a laugh. “I could have sex with Boy George right in front of him and he wouldn't care. Besides, the whole world knows he’s gay, although I didn’t know he was one of the regulars here.“

“OK,“ Chris says. He is relieved. He knows enough people who avoid going to places like Heaven, because they’re too afraid someone could see them. “Anyway. What d’ye think? About this ‘godforsaken place’.“

“Well, it’s loud,“ Neil says and he does his tongue-click again, followed by a disapproving twitch of his eyebrows. “Probably not my most favourite place in the world. But some interesting individuals here, it’s a great inspiration. And the music, that’s another pro. But I seriously wonder when this floor has been cleaned the last time. I’ve seen stains of all sorts.“

Chris snorts. “Yeah, don’t look too close,“ he says. But he is glad that Neil sort of seems to like it, and once again, Neil makes him feel that nothing is a big deal. Finding yourself homeless? No big deal. Going to gay clubs? No big deal. 

They order more drinks and Chris even persuades Neil to follow him to the dance floor, but not for long. Neil prefers to stand at the side and rate everybody's dance moves, as if they were members of a talent show and he was the judge. 

“Look,“ he says to Chris at one point, “this one there. He looks like climbing up some stairs, the way he lifts his knees all the time. And the one next to him is driving an invisible car. Got his hands on the steering wheel, going all over the place.“ Chris is already holding on to something to prevent himself from falling over, because he’s laughing so hard, but Neil has not finished. 

“Look at pinky pants there in the corner,“ he says and now he is speaking directly into Chris’s ear to drown out the music, “he looks like he’s picking apples from a tree.“

Chris is laughing so hard that his stomach is beginning to hurt. He has not realised that the thing he’s holding onto is actually Neil’s shoulder. It’s only when Chris calms down a bit he notices it and quickly removes his hand, but Neil didn't seem to mind it there. He is quietly chuckling while his eyes wander from one person to the next, and Chris watches him. He likes the way Neil smiles with his whole face, it always gives him a boyish, almost mischievous touch. He looks away again. 

By the time they leave Chris knows he’s drunk. He’s had at least four beers, maybe more. Neil has had a lot less, but he doesn't seem to worry too much about Chris being drunk. Chris is not quite sure what their conversation is on about, he follows Neil to the train station and he doesn’t feel too bad, at least not while they’re walking. But at the platform, the drunkenness suddenly hits him. It’s the absence of oxygen down there, the silence and the bright light. He shuts his eyes for a moment and puts his hand on his forehead. 

“Whoa, you alright?“ Neil asks. 

“Yeah, yeah,“ Chris answers. Then the world starts to tip over and he stumbles. And then there are hands on his shoulders which stop him from falling. He opens his eyes again and understands that Neil has caught him. Suddenly he feels stone-cold sober.

“Oh God,“ Chris says and steps back. “Sorry. Oh damn.“

“No worries,“ Neil says. “But please don’t fall, because you’d be too heavy for me to pick you up again.“

“I’m alright,“ Chris says. “Sorry. Just a weak moment.“ And the most embarrassing moment ever. 

The train arrives and Chris is happy to sit down. From there, he isn't sure anymore about all the details. He feels very tired. He might have fallen asleep on the train, he also might have rested his head on Neil’s shoulder, he cannot really remember when they get out at the station near King’s Road. 

What he does remember is the way Neil puts an arm around him on the way upstairs and he also believes that it’s Neil who puts a blanket over him, once he has made it to the sofa without falling over again. After that, everything is a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, and if you found the terribly cheesy song references which I tend to use all the time. I'm sorry. I'm a sucker for cheesiness. See you next time <3


	3. 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While spending some time in Blackpool over Christmas, Chris realises that he's missing London and his conversations with Neil. But when he's back there, he's reminded that he was supposed to move in only temporary, and Neil suggests to go and look at a room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're having trouble picturing the woman who's a bit too interested in poor little Chris, try this:   
> 1 c of Peggy Bundy  
> 1 tsp Bubbles DeVere  
> 1 tsp of Cruella DeVille  
> Mix them all together and season with _cringe_. 
> 
> ENJOY!!!

As every year, Christmas comes very unexpectedly and only a week after going to Heaven with Neil, Chris is already heading to Blackpool to spend the holidays with his family. He is almost a bit relieved to leave London for a while. It’s great, but it’s also so demanding sometimes. When he leaves, Neil takes him to the train station, which he appreciates a lot. 

“Make the most of having the flat to yourself,“ Chris says before he gets on his train. 

“It’s gonna be awful,“ Neil answers. “Who’s going to leave teabags in the sink now? Who’s going to eat all the biscuits and not buy new ones? Who’s going to forget he’s done the washing and then leave the clothes in the washing machine for like a decade, so you have to wash them again? Gotta do it all myself now.“

“You’re cruel. I’m gonna stay in Blackpool.“ 

“No! No, please, do come back,“ Neil says, chuckling. “And say Hi to your mum for me, Chrissy.“ 

The train arrives and they both don’t really know how to say goodbye to each other. Neil is the one who attempts to give Chris a hug and it is a bit awkward, as they’ve never actually hugged each other before, so they put their arms around each other clumsily, Neil pats Chris’s back, and they quickly let go again. For a moment Chris doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore after the hug, so he hides them in his pockets. It wasn't a bad feeling to hug Neil, and Chris wonders what a real hug would be like, but this one was definitely awkward. 

“Take care,“ Neil says. And Chris gets on his train, while Neil makes his way back to Chelsea. 

Back in Blackpool Chris feels very grounded. The absence of London’s constant noise is soothing and he realises how much he needed some peace and quiet. He spends time with his family and meets some of his friends from school, and they go to Pleasure Beach together, because that’s what you do in Blackpool. Even though there is not a lot going on there in December, it brings back some happy childhood memories. _How did I even end up in London_ , Chris asks himself sometimes. _Who am I?_

The other thing he realises while he is away is that he misses Neil. It’s a weird feeling and it takes him some time to actually recognise it. First it is just him talking a lot about Neil to his friends, he tells them what the flat is like, about Neil’s work and about the people he’s interviewed, about their interest in music, about Neil’s synthesiser, about things Neil has said or done. Then he notices that the days don’t feel quite complete. He and Neil have got into the habit of analysing their days together in the evening, sometimes Neil will write down the things he considers memorable. He tries doing the same with his sister, but it’s not the same. He feels like he needs to talk to Neil, and on the day after Boxing Day he decides to give him a call. 

“Hello?“ Neil says when he answers the phone. 

“It’s your favourite Northerner,“ Chris says. “Thought I’d make sure you got through Christmas alright.“

“Oh, yeah, fine. I only got back here this morning, I was with my family for a couple days. How’re you doing?“

Chris tells him about what he’s been up to and then they both go on about Christmas being a horrible holiday really, because it’s so needy. It needs to be something special and if you’re not feeling jolly, well, may God have mercy with you. Neil talks about the awkwardness of forced festivity and Chris listens to him and suddenly really wants to go back to London. He doesn't know exactly why. 

“When are you coming back?“ Neil asks. 

“After New Year’s Eve,“ Chris answers. “Second of January, I guess.“ It seems so far away when he says it. Then he thinks that by the time he’ll be back, it will already be a month of him and Neil living together. 

“Are you making the most of not having a flatmate?“ he asks. 

“Oh, you mean if I chat up people,“ Neil says and Chris can hear him smiling. “Oh yeah, constantly. Every day. I mean, what could be better than _making luurve_ , eh?“

Chris bursts into laughter. “I was guessing,“ he says. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.“

“I got quite accustomed to you being here. Didn’t expect that, really.“

Chris doesn't say anything and when the silence becomes too awkward, Neil starts talking about an article he has to finish shortly about a band from Birmingham Chris has never heard of. He doesn’t really care what Neil is talking about. He feels a strange kind of comfort from listening to his voice. 

“I had some new ideas,“ Neil says. “Song ideas. I’ll show you when you’re back.“

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that,“ Chris says. He doesn't actually know what to say anymore, but he also doesn't want to hang up. Neil talks about some restaurants he’s been to in Newcastle and, according to him, they were all horrendous. Chris listens to him and he probably could have listened to him a lot longer, but eventually his mother calls him down for dinner. 

He apologises. “Gotta go.“ 

“That’s alright. Let me know when you arrive, I’ll come pick you up.“

Chris feels himself warming up from inside at the offer. “Will do.“

“Right then. Speak to you soon. Oh, and thanks for calling.“ 

“Sure,“ Chris answers. “See you soon. Take care, bye.“

“Bye-bye.“ There is a click sound and Neil is gone.

________

Chris returns to London on the second of January and he actually feels like going home, more than he felt it on his way to Blackpool. For some reason, Neil’s flat has become more of a home in only four weeks than his old room in this shabby building where he’d lived since he started the internship. He only lived there a few months and it was an emergency solution, not a place he was very fond of. And before that he had a tiny room at the uni campus in Liverpool, maybe 7 square metres, not even big enough to have a keyboard in there. But now he actually looks forward to coming home to Neil.

He doesn't like the sound of that. It sounds like they were married or something. _I’m just coming home_ , he thinks instead. 

When he gets off the train, he immediately starts looking for Neil at the platform and he actually feels to see him. It takes him a while to spot him. Neil raises his hand when he sees him and when they meet, they hug each other again, and it already feels a lot less awkward. 

Neil steps back, without taking his hands off of Chris - they remain on his shoulders. “Good to see you,“ he says. 

Chris smiles. “And you.“

“Wanna get dinner on the way?“ Neil finally puts his hands into the pockets of his long coat. Chris nods. Blackpool seems already very, very far away again. 

“Let’s go home then,“ Neil says and Chris feels, for the first time in a long time, that he is exactly where he needs to be.

________

London in January is a cold and dull place. After the Christmas lights get removed, the city puts its grey winter coat on again, along with a miserable face. The streets are empty, the restaurants and cafés are overcrowded and the smell of wet clothes lingers inside.

“This is the time to write melancholic love songs,“ Neil says. “Or songs about a deep longing for something, which you feel when you look out the window and all you see is grey and dismal.“  
They do not write tragic laments or melancholic love songs, though. But they spent many of the long, dark January evenings writing songs and making music, Chris on the synthesiser and Neil playing his guitar. When they have lyrics, he sings. His soft voice goes very well with the tristesse of winter and sometimes Chris finds himself gazing at Neil as he sings, his eyes closed, his hands caressing the guitar, and Chris gets so mesmerised that he will unconsciously stop playing or repeat the same chord over and over again.

Neil writes the bits they like into his notebook, sometimes only single lines, sometimes more. They spend many evenings and even nights together like this and by the end of January, they have written two fully-formed songs they are indeed very fond of. Almost eight weeks have gone by and Chris has still not moved out. 

In fact he hasn't even thought about it for quite some time, until Neil comes home from work on the last day of January, with a piece of paper in his hand. 

“My colleague’s friend heard that someone’s letting a room near Hammersmith,“ Neil says and hands him the paper. It’s got an address on it. “Do you wanna go and look at it? It’s open for everyone interested tomorrow at 5.“

Chris feels a lump in his throat. He has been pushing the thought of moving out away, to the deepest corner of his mind, and now reality hits him like a smack in the mouth. But of course he wants to go look at it, this was a temporary solution, wasn’t it. It’s only that he’s got so used to being with Neil now and he doesn't want to miss these long evenings of musical outpourings. 

“Would you, like, erm…“

“Sure,“ Neil says. “I’ll come with you.“

________

The next day, when they arrive at the address they were given, there is already a queue outside the door. Neil frowns, then takes his glasses off, blinks and puts them back on again, as if he wanted to make sure the queue wasn't just a stain on his glasses.

The building’s street is, measured by London standards, okayish. There are some rubbish bins which need emptying desperately. Somewhere a baby cries, followed by a woman shouting. The front door, which might have been blue in a previous life, looks like its lock has been replaced at some point and Chris wonders why. 

When they enter the stairway, Neil whispers to him that it smells damp and there are indeed black patches on the walls and the ceiling. The stairway is pretty dark and Chris counts the steps they have to walk up: 52. 

The actual flat doesn't smell as bad as the stairway, but Chris immediately knows that the person who lives there is a smoker. It doesn’t smell too strong, but the wallpapers and curtains have taken on a sick yellow tinge. They quickly examine the place - it’s not very big, two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. But it is not overly untidy. There is a lot of stuff on the shelves and on the table, and on the windowsill, though. And some cobwebs in a corner, but everybody has those, right? And an unidentifiable stain on the carpet. In the kitchen they find a remarkable amount of empty wine bottles in a bag under the table, but hey, maybe there’s been a party. 

“Hi there,“ says a female voice behind them and they turn round. “You two are together? I’m the owner of the place.“

The woman standing there is most likely in her forties. Her lips as well as her hair are of a deep red colour and she wears a leopard print blouse. She’s surrounded by a cloud of perfume, which makes Chris wrinkle his nose. 

“I’m only here for moral support,“ Neil says. 

She eyes Chris with a pleased smile. “So, you’re interested in the room?“

Chris tries to speak but he can’t, so he only nods. The way the woman eyeballs him makes him uncomfortable. She reminds him of a cat staring at a mouse, right before she attacks. 

“Alright, luv,“ she purrs. “I think I’d get along with you very well.“ A wink. “So, if you’re really interested…let me know.“ She grins and touches her upper teeth with her tongue, then moves away to speak to someone else. 

Chris exchanges a brief glance with Neil.

“You wanna…“ Chris says and Neil immediately interrupts him and says, “Yeah. Let’s go.“ 

Once they’re outside again they look at each other as if to make sure neither of them has seen a ghost, it was all real, in its entire oddity. And then they start laughing. 

“Jesus,“ Chris gasps. “That was the creepiest thing I’ve seen in me life!“ 

“Did you notice the way she looked at you?“ Neil asks. “Like, hungry. Actually _hungry_.“

“Yes! She probably would have killed me and cut me into pieces!“ 

“And then have you for dinner.“

“Store the rest of me in the freezer.“

“But she’d keep a souvenir. A finger.“ 

Chris shudders. “Sorry,“ he says then. “But thank you anyway for trying.“

Neil smiles. “Let’s go home.“

________

When Chris comes home from work the next day, Neil is already there and he smirks at Chris, when he comes in.

“So,“ he says. “I did a thing today. Should have done it ages ago, really.“

Chris takes his coat off. “What’s that?“

“Did you look at the doorbell when you came in?“

“…No?“

“Well, go back downstairs then and have a look,“ Neil demands, and even though Chris doesn’t quite know what to expect, he heads down again, opens the door and steps outside to the street. And then he sees it. Neil has changed the name tag next to his bell. Where it said _N. Tennant_ before, it says now _Tennant / Lowe_. He stares at it and can’t really understand what it means, but somehow it means everything. 

When he comes back to their (that’s what it is now, right?) flat, Neil stands in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, and he grins and looks very pleased with himself. Chris feels waves of happiness running through him. 

“Thank you,“ is all he can say. He wants to give him a hug, tell him how much this actually means to him, but he can’t find the words. Or give him a hug, mind you. He’s afraid it would be very awkward and clumsy again and maybe Neil doesn't even want to be hugged. So he can’t say or do anything but grin nervously. 

“Now you can receive letters, if necessary,“ Neil says. 

“Yeah. That’s brilliant. I mean, I will keep looking for somewhere else, but…I really, really appreciate that.“

“Well, there’s no need to hurry, is there. The right place will come, but…for now, I just don’t want you to get slaughtered and turned into a pie.“ 

Chris laughs and suddenly everything feels very easy. _It’s gonna be fine_ , he thinks. They go back in together and Neil says he’s going to make dinner for them, he’s bought some pork loins and potatoes and vegetables. While Chris chops the vegetables Neil puts the meat in a pan and spreads the potatoes on a baking tray. They chat about nothing and everything and later on they open a bottle of wine. After dinner Neil suggests watching some TV for a change and they watch a movie, but they don’t pay much attention. They spend the evening talking, drinking wine and laughing and Chris feels that he doesn't want the evening to end. And he hopes that Neil feels the same - at least a little bit. He wants to believe Neil feels the same.


	4. 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk people and children always tell the truth, they say...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two scenes had been in my head long before I started writing this, actually. This is how this story came to be - it's a frame for scenes I had written down without any context. So, let's watch things getting a bit more... interesting. Buckle up.

A single evening can feel like an eternity, but of course after all, life goes on. With the new name tag at the doorbell Chris feels even more at home than before and he is really grateful that he doesn't have to worry about finding something new as soon as possible. Especially as his internship will end in three months and he has no idea what to do next. The obvious thing would be to go back to Liverpool and finish the university course, but he’s hoping for another opportunity to show up before. 

Another week has gone past and Chris comes home from work. He’s finished earlier than usual and he’s not expecting Neil to be home already, so maybe he’ll have some time to sit down and do nothing before he comes home. 

Chris has only stepped inside and shut the door behind him, when he hears something. A whistle. Someone is whistling a melody in the bathroom. He freezes to the spot. A split second later Neil walks out of the bathroom, and Chris can tell that he did not expect him either. Neil stops when he sees Chris and looks at him with wide eyes. 

Neil is naked. That is, besides the towel wrapped round his waist, but he’s obviously just come out of the shower. Chris can smell his shower gel and shampoo. He knows he should look away, but he doesn’t. Instead he stares at Neil. Neil, in return, doesn't look away either. He could turn around or just keep walking and get dressed. But he looks back at Chris, like he’s trying to find out why Chris is staring at him. He looks surprised, and curious. 

Chris feels his face getting hot but he still can’t look away. So he does what he usually does when he gets nervous - he starts talking nonsense. 

“What are you doing here?“ he asks. 

“I live here,“ Neil answers without batting an eyelid. 

“Well, yes, but… Now?“ Chris doesn't even know what he’s talking about. He is distracted by a single water drop that falls off Neil’s hair and runs down his shoulder and over his chest. Neil’s skin is very light, almost pale, and yet a bit rosy from the hot water. 

“It’s Friday, Chris,“ Neil says. “I finish early on Fridays. And I didn't have time to shower this morning.“ 

“Oh, erm, yeah,“ Chris stutters. “Right. Oh God, I-I’m sorry.“ Now is definitely the time to look away, but his eyes are still fixed to Neil’s chest. 

“Well, I guess this kind of thing happens when you live together,“ Neil just says. “I’m gonna get dressed now. See you in a minute.“ And he walks past Chris and into the bedroom.

Chris sits down at the sofa and covers his face with his hands, rubs his eyes and sighs. How embarrassing. How utterly embarrassing. Five minutes later Neil comes back and when he notices that Chris avoids looking at him, he laughs. 

“Don’t worry,“ he says. “Don’t you tell me you’ve never seen a shirtless man before. We all look the same anyway.“

Chris nods. Of course he’s seen other half-naked men, Heaven is full of them. But the thing is, he has not seen Neil half-naked before. Neil doesn’t seem to mind at all, though, and carries on regardless. He’s already talking about whether to go out for dinner or not, and where, and if he needs to ring in advance to see if tables are available. 

“Hey.“ A thought has popped up in Chris's mind. “Would you like to go out again after dinner?“ 

“Oh, you mean like Heaven or something?“

“Doesn’t need to be that, we could go somewhere else,“ Chris answers. He doesn't know why he has suggested it in the first place, but it’s been a while since he’s been out and something makes him think that going out again could be a good idea. 

“I’ve actually got some more work to do,“ Neil says, “so maybe not today.“

Chris feels disappointed. Then he thinks that it’s stupid to make himself dependent on Neil, he’s always gone out on his own until he’s moved in with him. He actually feels like going out, maybe have some drinks to forget about the embarrassing moment earlier.

“Do you mind if I go anyway?“ he asks. “I thought I’d catch up with some people.“

“Of course!“ Then Neil adds with a smile, “That is, if you’re not too scared to go on the tube without me.“

“Oh, shut up,“ Chris answers. “I mean, I’ll miss ye. Tremendously. I’ll be pining for ye.“ 

“I’m glad. I’ll be here waiting, anxious you won’t come back at all because you’re already on your way to the Bahamas with sexy-secretary Sally from the office, to live in concubinage.“ 

Chris snorts and bursts in laughter. He doesn't remember how this whole thing started, but suddenly Neil found that it was awfully funny to talk as if they were a married couple, and Chris has soon begun to play along. It cracks him up. There is, of course, nobody called Sally at the office, but Neil comes up with all sort of things, he does it seemingly effortlessly and he’s always so dead serious, that Chris doesn't stand a chance to keep a straight face. And then there is something else to these jokes. In a very strange way he enjoys these little role-plays. He hasn't quite worked out yet why, but when he says he’ll miss Neil, it’s not actually just a joke. 

They do go out for dinner together, but Neil sticks to his plan to go back home afterwards, so Chris heads to Charing Cross on his own. He soon realises that he actually really is disappointed that Neil didn't want to come and it annoys him that he feels that way. It never ever has been a problem before for him to go out on his own. 

In the club Chris soon discovers some people he knows from previous visits, not friends really, but faces he’s seen before. Nobody to have an actual conversation with, but at least some company.

He loses track of the number of drinks he’s had. The more he drinks, the easier it gets to remember the image of Neil coming out the shower. Not that he’s consciously doing it, the image just keeps creeping back up on his mind. He knew Neil was slim, but he didn't know he actually has got quite strong looking arms and a flat stomach. His shoulders are also not as narrow as they appear sometimes when he wears a wide shirt, not really broad either, but Neil definitely isn't as scraggy as Chris might have thought. Frankly said, he is in good shape, a tall, athletic looking man.

Chris sits down at the bar for a while with a beer and thinks about Neil. Isn’t he just amazing? Letting him sleep on his sofa, just like that, without asking for anything in return? And isn't he always trying to encourage Chris to do what he loves, reminding him that he is good enough? He might be the first person ever who likes Chris entirely just the way he is, because they have so little in common apart from the music thing, why would he hang out with him if he didn't genuinely like him? 

Chris has become lost in his thoughts and he’s also emptied his glass. He looks up. The other people have disappeared in the crowd, so he’s alone in a room full of people. It is around half past 1 and Chris knows that he’s also a bit drunk by now, so he decides to call it a night and leaves. He takes a taxi, because he is, in fact, too scared to take the tube on his own, but Neil doesn't need to know that. 

When Chris enters the flat, he is surprised to find the light in the living room switched on, and in the bedroom as well. And soon after he’s walked in, he sees Neil, who is still up. It’s the second time that day Chris freezes to the spot and stares at him. 

“I couldn’t sleep,“ Neil says. “I thought I’d read or write or something. You’re quite early, you OK?“

Chris doesn't know how late or how early it is. He suddenly feels very drunk and very sentimental and he hasn't expected Neil to be up. Seeing him in his weird state of mind is almost too much.  
“You,“ Chris says, and with his accent thickening up due to the alcohol, it sounds like _Yeeewww_ , “you really are a good friend, y’know.“

Neil frowns. “What?“

Chris puts his shoes away and walks over to Neil, or he staggers over there, rather. “Thank you. For letting me live ’ere. An’ for being me friend. Jus’ wanted to say. Haven't ever told ye, have I.“  
“How many drinks have you had?“

“Errrrr dunno,“ Chris answers. “Anyway. YOU, you saved me life.“ He puts a hand on Neil’s shoulder. “Me life, mate, saved it, ye did.“ And before he knows what he’s doing he’s giving Neil a big hug. 

“Oh come on, really?“ Neil says, waiting for Chris to let go. But he doesn't. 

“Very good friend,“ Chris murmurs into Neil’s t-shirt. 

“…so are you,“ Neil answers and awkwardly pats his back. 

“Yer me best friend,“ Chris continues his drunk soliloquy, snuggling his head into the space between Neil’s neck and shoulder. “Really are.“ 

“Uhm… thank you.“ His hands are wandering over Chris’s back more tenderly now. 

“Honestly. Never told ye. I mean, I’m SO glad we met. Like, so glad. First thought ye’re a bit of a geek though.“ Chris laughs. “But I love you Neil, really, I love you.“ 

Neil doesn't answer and Chris has now also gone quiet. 

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed,“ Neil says and stops stroking his back. 

“Yeah. Bed.“ Chris finally lets go and Neil goes to the kitchen to get him some water. He doesn't really know what he’s doing, his head is spinning and his vision is blurry. He can only think about going to bed, so that is what he does.

________

When Chris wakes up the next morning, his head feels like someone has placed a brick on top of it. And he is thirsty, his throat is terribly dry and his mouth tastes sour. He moans and pulls the blanket up over his nose, ready to fall asleep again, when he suddenly feels something. A movement.

His eyes open wide and he cannot believe what he sees. Or whom, rather. It’s Neil. Asleep. Next to him. 

Chris feels his head getting hot and adrenaline rushes through his body. He is now fully awake. _What happened_ , he thinks, panicking. _What have I done. What the HELL have I done. Why am I in his bed._

He is unable to move or to look away. Neil’s eyes are closed, one of his arms is hidden somewhere under the pillow and the other arm is resting on the duvet. His hair is messy. He looks very peaceful. His lips are a millimetre apart, some of his curly strands fall over his forehead and his breath is calm and steady. Chris is paralysed. He’s never seen Neil like that before. From day one he’s been impressed by his strong personality; Neil is someone who can stand his ground, someone who isn’t afraid of anything or anyone, someone who is unshakeable. But now he sees another side of him. He looks vulnerable. Innocent. He looks… Chris doesn't really want the word to come up in his mind but it’s pushing its way into his consciousness. He looks _beautiful_. There is the perfect shape of his lips, his eternal eyelashes, the curly hair. Chris is hit by the sudden wish to touch Neil’s face, it hits him so hard that it scares him. 

He decides to escape. Very carefully, Chris lifts up the duvet. As slowly as possible, he slides out of the bed and keeps an eye on Neil to make sure he doesn't wake up. Then he walks out of the room on tip toes and into the bathroom, where he quickly shuts the door, turns the key and takes a deep breath. How did he end up in Neil’s bed? He can’t even look at himself in the mirror.  
He brushes his teeth and drinks water from the tap, which makes him feel a bit better. Then he decides to shower and the warm water revives him, it washes off all the dirt from the club and for a moment he just stands in the shower and lets it pour over him while he rests his head against the cold tiles of the bathroom walls. 

After the shower he realises that he has to go back to the bedroom to get fresh clothes, but he doesn't want to go back in there as long as Neil is still asleep. So instead he puts his t-shirt and boxer shorts back on and goes to lie down on the sofa, where he should have slept in the first place, pulls his blanket over him and shuts his eyes. His head is still feeling heavy and now his stomach also starts acting up, it’s that weird feeling between nauseous and hungry. He is still contemplating whether to get up or not and get breakfast, when the bedroom door opens and Neil walks out and into the bathroom. Chris pulls the blanket over his face and hopes Neil won’t see him. 

A few minutes later Neil comes back. “Morning,“ he says in a honeyed voice. 

Chris moans. What a nightmare. 

“I’ll make coffee,“ Neil says. “You know where to find me.“ At least he doesn't sound angry. 

Chris waits for him to go to the kitchen, then he hurries back to the bedroom and grabs a fresh t-shirt, underwear and, because he really cannot be bothered to put on jeans now, a pair of track pants. Facing Neil is the last thing he wants to do but by now his stomach is seriously craving food, so he walks into the kitchen and puts a slice of toast in the toaster. 

“Milk?“ Neil asks. 

“Just black coffee,“ Chris answers and Neil hands him a cup. When the toast pops up again he eats it dry, to appease his stomach, while Neil cracks some eggs and throws them in a pan for himself. Chris wants to say something, but he can’t. Everything feels wrong and awkward, so he just quietly eats his toast. 

“So, is that your thing,“ Neil finally says with a grin, “spend the night and then bugger off in the morning?“ 

Chris can feel himself blushing and he is so embarrassed he is not sure he won't start crying in a minute. Neil sees it and he laughs, but not in a mean way, and then he asks, “Hey, have you lost your sense of humour?“

Chris buries his face in his hands. “I’m so, SO sorry,“ he finally says. “Honestly.“

Now Neil really starts laughing. “For what?“

Chris doesn't know. “Whatever happened last night.” 

Neil looks at him. “You can’t remember, can you.“ Chris shakes his head. “Well,“ Neil continues, scraping his scrambled eggs on a plate. “Nothing happened. I was still up when you came home because I couldn't sleep, and I told you to go to bed, so you did, literally. And to be honest, I just couldn't be bothered to sleep on the sofa, so I joined you.“ 

Chris nods. Neil talks about it as if it was totally normal to sleep in someone else's bed by accident. Neither him being drunk nor him sleeping in his bed seem to have shocked him and Chris begins to wonder if there is anything at all that could knock Neil off his feet (apart from dates in a banana cake). 

“Did I say anything weird?“

“Well, you get a bit sentimental and emotional sometimes when you’re drunk. You said I was a very good friend for letting you stay here, and that you’re really grateful… oh, and then you said you loved me.“

Chris chokes on a piece of toast and starts coughing. “WHAT,“ he gasps between two coughs and Neil chuckles. 

“That was a first,“ he says. 

Now this is even more terrible than everything he was expecting. Why would he say that? He must have been totally demented. 

“Oh my God,“ Chris murmurs to himself. “You must think I’m a total knob.“

“No, no, I’m actually flattered,“ Neil says. “They say children and drunk people don't lie, don't they. Well, I can consider myself lucky, I guess.“ 

“I’m sorry. Really. I’m sorry.“

“Why?“ Neil asks again. “Someone loves me! And it’s not anyone, it’s you, the one and only Chris Lowe.“

“I hope you know I didn't mean it.“

Neil puts his plate, which is already empty, away and sits down at the table next to Chris. “It’s OK,“ he says then. “Please. Don’t. Worry. We all talk nonsense when we’re drunk. Right?“

“I guess,“ Chris says quietly. 

“I found it funny, actually. And a bit sweet, too.“

Sweet! Why would Neil find it sweet? Unless sweet is his way to say pathetic. That’s what it was, wasn't it - pathetic. But now it’s done, and there is no way he can undo it. So he tries to swallow the lump in his throat and push away the embarrassment. Maybe Neil is right and it actually is a bit funny. Chris wonders how he would react himself if his drunk mate confessed his love to him, and the answer is that he’d probably laugh himself to death. 

“So, what happens next?“ he asks. “Are we getting married?“

“We will, my love,“ Neil chirps. “We’ll run away, away from this small town, away from my violent husband and your bigoted parents, and we’ll start afresh, just you and me.“ 

Chris laughs and he can feel how he relaxes again. Neil hasn't kicked him out and he’s still his friend, and he’s still joking around as always. It feels good to laugh about it and get rid of some of the tension, but that doesn't change the fact that Chris still doesn't know why he has said it. A drunken mind will sometimes bring hidden treasures up to the surface, and Chris wonders if this confession was something he had hidden in his unconscious mind.


	5. 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris returns to the bedroom for an experiment and Neil complains about an incompetent intern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is rather short, but that's because I retrospectively divide the story into chapters, and I thought this would make sense. Anyway. Get ready for more cheesy song references and also random things I added because I can (such as “Pur-lease!"). Also. It's getting hot in here now, so don't burn your fingers!

The weekend goes by and Chris moves back to the sofa, although there is a very short moment on Saturday evening when he almost expects Neil to ask him to sleep in his bed again. But Neil doesn't ask him, of course he doesn’t. 

On Monday Neil announces that he has to attend a meeting in the evening on Tuesday and that he’ll be home late. He also tells Chris that he shouldn't wait for him, because he’ll have dinner there and maybe some drinks with his colleagues afterwards. 

It’s the first evening Chris has the flat completely to himself and when he comes home from work, it feels very strange. He’s spent a few hours there on his own before, but not a whole evening. He almost feels like a stranger again, like a visitor, or even an intruder, and for quite some time he just sits on the sofa and doesn't know what to do. He browses through some old _Smash Hits_ issues, but then he realises that he’s only looking through them to find the articles Neil has written, and he puts the magazine away again. 

He thinks about dinner and really doesn't feel like eating anything or preparing anything, so he eats a handful of biscuits and then looks for something to drink, preferably alcoholic. He ignores the fact that the last time he got drunk by himself didn't end well and opens a beer, which he takes back to the living room. 

For three days now his thoughts have been going all over the place, and Chris knows that the alcohol will calm his mind down and make him sleepy. He has tried very hard to remember the evening of his silly drunken love confession but the only image he can find in his memory is that of him hugging Neil, for some reason, and that’s all. He doesn't know why he hugged him or how it felt like. Which is annoying, because he would like to know how it felt. But there is nothing.

Chris takes a large sip of his beer. He has an idea. An incredibly stupid idea, but it’s too late, he’s already standing in Neil’s bedroom. He’s got two little versions of himself sitting on his shoulders, an angel-version on the right and a devil-version on the left, and they're arguing. 

_Do it_ , devil-Chris says. _Neil’s not here_. 

_Stop_ , angel-Chris warns him. _It’s disgraceful_.

 _Oh shut up, you. It’s no big deal!_

_It IS a big deal. Just go back to the living room, Chrissy._

_It’s an experiment! This is for study purposes only!_

_It’s an atrocity!_

_YOU’re an atrocity._

_And you look more like a crab than a devil._

_Don’t make me laugh, you and your puny wings and your shabby halo and…_

Chris shakes his head. The battle is already lost. He kneels down next to the bed and puts his hand on the pillow, feels the soft fabric of the cover. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed and finally he lies down. The memory of waking up next to Neil flashes back. With his eyes shut, Chris turns himself over to the side and pulls the other pillow, the one Neil sleeps on, closer to him. Then he holds it against his face and inhales. 

It definitely smells like Neil, somehow, it’s the aftershave he uses, his shampoo and also a hint of lavender. Chris knows that Neil keeps a little scented lavender pillow in his closet. It’s a mixture of many scents - it is _him_. Maybe this comes close to how the hug felt. But he still can’t remember. 

Chris lets go off the pillow again and lies on his back. What an idiotic thing to do, only teenagers would do this. _I gotta get up again now_ , he thinks and stares at the ceiling. But the bed feels warm and safe and finally his mind stops racing for a moment and calms down, and he shuts his eyes again, just for one minute. 

He wakes up when he feels something moving next to him again and he has a déjà-vu. _Oh fuck_ , he thinks. _It’s happened again. FUCK_. 

The light in the room is dimmed. Neil has just pulled the duvet to the side to lie down underneath it and when he turns round, their eyes meet.

“Ah,“ Neil says. “Look who’s awake.“ The words slur a bit, he must have been drinking. And he lies down next to him, as if it was the most normal thing ever, while Chris turns to stone. Neil gets himself into a comfortable position, then props his head on his hand and looks at Chris with a bold smile.

“So, is this becoming a habit now?“

Chris doesn't even dare to breathe anymore. He has the horrible feeling that he has screwed up everything now, their friendship, their musical endeavours and their living arrangement. And then there is the little devil on his shoulder again, who tells him that he subconsciously _wanted_ this to happen. _You WANT to sleep next to him_ , the little devil says, _because you LIKED it_.

Neil waits for him to answer but all Chris can do is look at him. 

“Your hands are shaking,“ Neil notes and without a warning, he puts his hand on Chris’s wrist. “Are you alright?“

Chris looks at his hands and Neil is right. He has not even noticed it himself. 

“I’m… Yeah.“ He clears his throat. “I’ll go to sleep now, I mean, on the sofa.“

He wants to get up but Neil tightens the grip around his wrist and holds him back. Then he says two words, and Chris knows that these two words are about to change everything in some way, they’re about to cross a line, and they won’t be able to go back.

“No. Stay.“

His voice is very tender. Chris isn’t sure he’s actually understood him correctly. Did he ask him to stay?

“I mean, if you want,“ Neil adds. “Stay if you want to.“ 

Chris can’t think. He feels hot and feverish. He doesn't say anything and he can’t even get himself to nod. Neil reads his face and seems to understand. He lifts the duvet up, inviting him in. It’s a last chance for Chris to say _No, I don’t want this_. But instead he moves a bit closer and lets Neil cover him with the duvet. For a second he thinks that he hasn't got changed. But he’s only wearing a t-shirt and his track pants, so who cares. Getting up, getting changed and then getting back to bed with Neil seems like the most impossible thing ever. He knows, if he gets up now, he’ll go to the sofa and not go back to the bedroom. 

Chris curls up into a fetal position and makes himself small, his hands tucked in underneath his body. He still hasn’t said a single word. 

Neil turns around to switch the lamp on his bedside table off and darkness engulfs them. With the light gone Chris allows himself to relax again, at least a little bit. Everything is easier in the dark. Neil lies back down again, facing Chris, but he can’t see him anymore. 

“Are you OK?“

Chris bites his lips. “Yeah,“ he finally manages to say. His voice sounds throaty. Then he feels something and he realises it’s Neil’s hand, giving his shoulder a brief but reassuring squeeze, which says _Just wanna make sure you really are alright, because this IS alright_. Then he removes his hand again.

“Good night,“ Neil says. 

It takes a while until Chris can actually relax. He’s afraid that he could accidentally touch Neil, so he tries to move as little as possible. But the longer he lies there, in the dark, listening to the soothing sound of Neil breathing next to him, the more he calms down and finally he falls asleep.

________

Chris wakes up around six in the morning, half an hour before Neil’s alarm goes off. He realises that they both have repositioned themselves at night - they’re a lot closer to each other now. In fact, Neil has even put an arm around Chris, and the gap between their faces measures not more than two or three inches. He feels Neil’s arm heavily on his own arm, as if it consisted of lead.

He wants to move his other arm, he’s been lying on it and it’s gone numb. But he doesn't want to disturb Neil and he also doesn't want either of them to move. The closeness, the intimacy of the situation, Neil’s arm on him, it feels good. And right there, right now, the bedroom has become a place outside the time-space-continuum, where only they exist and inside which it is OK to just feel, and sense, and enjoy.

When the pins and needles in his arm become unbearable, he tries to move it very slowly and he can free it without Neil removing his arm. For a moment Chris hesitates, then he puts his hand on Neil’s shoulder and feels it through the fabric of the duvet. He lets his hand wander along the contour of his body, until Neil moves and he pulls his hand away again quickly. 

Neil blinks and stretches himself, then he looks at Chris. 

“Hey,“ he whispers. 

“Hey.“

Chris expects Neil to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead he pulls his arm back and puts his hand on Chris’s shoulder, lets it rest there for a second and gives Chris time to react to it. Chris follows the movement of Neil’s hand with his eyes, then he looks back at him. He doesn’t know what’s happening and it doesn't even matter anymore. Neil’s hand slips under the duvet and Chris feels it moving down his arm, first on his t-shirt, then on his skin. The touch is so gentle, so tender, it makes him shiver. Neil’s fingers seem to radiate heat and it spreads through his whole body. The gap between them has become smaller and he doesn't know how, they must have unconsciously been repositioning their heads again. The air between them is electrified. 

Neil moves his hand back up Chris’s arm and to his neck, over the collar of his t-shirt and then he touches his bare skin again. With his index finger he draws little circles on the skin right underneath Chris’s ear. 

Chris doesn't know how they eventually close the gap. It feels like neither of them does anything, more like they’re drawn towards each other by a power which is out of their control. He feels Neil’s hand on his neck and the gap between them gets smaller and smaller until their noses bump against each other, which makes them chuckle quietly. It only takes another almost non-noticeable turn of their heads and their mouths are on the same level. Chris has shut his eyes. He feels his heart hammering against his chest and the heat of Neil’s body next to him, he lifts his chin, only a millimetre, and they close the gap and their lips touch. 

It’s only a touch. Not even a kiss. But Chris feels the softness of Neil’s lips on his mouth and he inhales deeply through his nose. They remain like that for a second or maybe for ten thousand seconds, he doesn't know, they’re mouth to mouth, skin to skin. Until Chris pulls his head back and gasps for oxygen. He can hardly see Neil’s face in the darkness, but he’s almost sure that he smiles. He’s almost sure that he smiles himself, too. 

Then the alarm clock rings and they both wince. Brutally unforgiving as it is, reality hits them hard. 

“Oh godammit,“ Neil says and reaches over to the bedside table to turn the alarm off. Then he drops back down on his pillow and rubs his eyes. 

“I gotta get up.“

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.“

Neil gets up first and disappears, leaving Chris wondering if the last half hour was actually real or a dream.

________

At work Chris finds it hard to concentrate. He goes through the morning over and over in his head and the more often he does it, the more sure he gets that it was a dream. A pretty intense one. But the fact that Neil has asked him to sleep in his bed with him, that was not a dream. And he doesn't understand why. There has never been a moment between them that has made him wonder if Neil was interested in him in any other way than platonically. Apart from the jokes of them being married, but that is just Neil’s kind of humour, isn't it? And he’s had girlfriends, right? Girlfriends. Female girlfriends.

As for himself, Chris hasn't had a girlfriend or a boyfriend yet, apart from the odd crush at school. But that doesn't count. He’s never wanted one, really.

And whether it actually happened or not, maybe it was nothing anyway, this… thing. He’s come to the conclusion that even if it was real, it was not a kiss, because a kiss requires engagement from both parties involved. But neither of them actually did anything. No tongue action, no parting of the lips, nothing. Even Chris knows that this is _not_ the definition of a kiss. 

Before he comes home, he decides not to dwell on the situation and to wait if Neil will bring it up, and if not, then so be it. Neil is on the telephone when he enters the flat, and he is not happy.

“Nonononono,“ he just says when Chris walks in and he looks over his shoulder and acknowledges him, then turns away again. “I NEVER said that.“

He listens to the other person talking. Meanwhile, Chris takes his shoes and coat off and puts his bag down. He doesn't know whether he should leave the room or not. 

“And whose fault is that?“ Neil snaps. “Eric’s? Darren’s? MINE? _Pur-lease_.“ 

Another pause. 

“Oh, you gotta be joking. How many times have we discussed this? How many-“

He looks back to Chris, points to the telephone and rolls his eyes. 

“The deadline is tomorrow, twelve o’ clock,“ he says. “Twelve o’clock. Not half past. Not quarter past. I’ll have this bloody thing on my bloody desk tomorrow by bloody twelve. Is. That. Clear?“

Chris is impressed. And a bit scared. _Thank God I’m not working with him_ , he thinks. _And hopefully I never will_. 

“Nonono, stop it. No excuses. Shut up, get it done, and when you put it on my desk tomorrow, better make sure you’ve got me a nice piece of cake as well. Mhmh. Alright.“

Another short pause. “Yes, no, that’s fine,“ Neil says and he sounds less furious now. “OK. See you tomorrow then. Don’t forget the cake. Yeah. Bye.“ 

He puts the phone down and sighs. 

“Goddamn underlings,“ he says. Chris knows this is how they call the interns and the new ones sometimes. He decides not to ask about the details as Neil is already upset about it and from what he’s heard, someone has missed a deadline, which is always annoying and usually Neil is the one who has to rescue everything (at least that’s what he says). “Anyway, you alright?“

“Yeah, fine.“

“How ’bout some dinner? I was thinking about this dinky little place in South Kensington, it’s French cuisine and my colleague said the quiche-lorraine is to die for.“

“Cool,“ Chris says. “OK.“ He doesn't know what a quiche-lorraine is, but going out seems like a good idea. Better than spending the evening in a confined space, especially when Neil is in such a mood. 

“Sorry you had to hear this,“ Neil says while he puts his shoes on. “But this kid is so bloody naff.“ 

“s’alright,“ Chris answers. “I’m just really grateful you’re not my boss.“

Neil looks at him and then he chuckles. “Yeah. Come on. Let’s go.“

________

During dinner, Neil goes on about the incompetence of both the underlings and also some of his colleagues, but not for too long. He is very pleased with the quiche-lorraine, even though he states he wouldn't die for it (“Average,“ he says, “maybe closer to _very well_ than to _good_ , but still average“).

Chris, who enjoys the food less than he pretends to, feels relieved that the weird first thirty minutes of the day haven't messed up everything. He wonders if Neil thinks about it, but if he does, he’s very good at hiding it. 

They stay at the restaurant for a long time, have a dessert and another glass of wine after that. When they come home, they’re in a good mood and Neil plays a record he’s brought home from work, he wants to hear Chris’s opinion on it. It’s a reggae tune. Chris isn’t overly impressed and neither is Neil, and together they analyse the song, the rhythm, the chord pattern (“I think the person who wrote this only knows three chords“) and of course the lyrics.

“Some people really think you only have to grab a handful of words, throw in some Ohhhhhhs and Aaaahhhhs and Yeahs and you have a song,“ Neil says. “I mean, what _is_ this. I think I’ve heard the same verse three times now.“ 

“You can have a song with only a few words,“ Chris replies. “Just gotta be the right words.“ 

“Such as?“

“God, gimme a minute. Dunno. I’d have to think about it.“

“Well, let me know when you’ve figured it out.“

“Could be totally random. Food. Cars. Whatever.“ 

Neil nods. Then he walks over to his desk, opens his notebook and makes a note. Chris is used to that - Neil writes down everything he considers interesting. Sometimes only a single word. He believes that all these notes might be useful one day, that they're all just waiting to become songs. 

“Anyway, I’ll go to bed,“ Neil announces. He looks at Chris and for a split second his eyes are asking him if he wants to come with him. It’s not that he’s inviting him. He wants to know what Chris wants to do. Chris knows that he has to make a decision, right now. 

“Yeah, I… I’ll sleep, too,“ Chris says. He doesn't get up and that is his answer. Neil just nods, goes to the bathroom and when he comes back he wishes him a good night and leaves Chris alone in the living room. And that is where he spends the night, and the one after that, too.


	6. 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Neil return to Heaven, in every meaning of the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well, don't play with fire, right? You'll get burned. Personally, I really love this chapter. I do believe that certain songs played in clubs make you WANT to play with that match and just hold it in your hand and stare at it until the flame reaches your finger. OUCH. But it was worth it, right? 
> 
> THANK YOU again to everybody who has followed this story so far, it means the world to me! I became quite attached to this fic and I couldn't be happier when I read all the lovely comments. Stick with me, I know what you're all waiting for - we're getting there. ;) 
> 
> J.

After finishing work on Friday, Chris hangs around in town for as long as he can. He doesn't feel like going home. Neil hasn't questioned his decision to move back to the sofa in any way, and it’s bothering him. He’s been waiting for Neil to address it, but he hasn't shown any reaction whatsoever. He could have asked something like _Did you not like what happened the other day_ which would give Chris the chance to answer and say _No, I liked it, I think I might even want to do it again_ (not that he would actually say that). If it was real, that is. Chris is still not sure whether it actually happened. 

He doesn't want to avoid Neil, per se, he just wants some time for himself to get his mind cleared. If he waits long enough, they will just discuss their dinner options by the time he comes home and that will be that for the evening. While he wanders through the streets of London, his thoughts are doing some wandering of their own and right into the past. 

It seems a long time ago that they’ve met in this shop just down the road from where they both live now. He can’t remember how they started talking, or what the first lines of their conversation were, or even which one of them said the first words. There is the distinct possibility that Neil said something to the shopkeeper and Chris answered, not realising Neil wasn't actually talking to him. Or that Chris said something to himself, to which Neil responded. But he doesn't know. He remembers Neil giving him his phone number and a few days later, he came to his flat for the first time and Neil showed him the new synthesiser he got. What an unusual way to meet someone. But from day one Neil seemed to have an acute interest in Chris’s opinion on records and his musical knowledge, and Chris himself was impressed by Neil’s ability to turn words into lyrics. And there’s a certain intrigue in the way their musical skills perfectly complement each other.  
He’s been in London for more than nine months now. When he first moved there, it was like moving to another world. London, the big city, the place where dreams come true, where one can be whatever they want to be. The reality looked a bit different, though - it still requires courage to be your true self. And hard work to fulfil your dreams. 

After walking around aimlessly for some time, Chris finds himself outside Chelsea Records, the shop where he met Neil. He looks at his reflection in the window. The boy in the window looks back at him and Chris wonders if this is his true self, or if there is someone else, someone who is more than an ordinary boy from the North who’s trying to become an architect and who doesn't actually know if that’s what he wants to be. He can’t imagine being trapped in an office from 9 to 5 o’clock every day for the rest of his life. And then there is Neil. For some reason, he has the feeling that Neil will play a role in his life, one way or another. It’s the way they met, the way they talk about music ( _the way you sleep in his bed_ , his little shoulder-devil whispers). Sometimes he thinks that it might not have been a chance meeting, but that they were supposed to find each other there, in that shop. 

Looking back on it, Chris realises that he’s always subconsciously tried to impress Neil. It started with simple things, like playing the synthesiser. Usually Chris wouldn't really care how it sounded. But with Neil listening to him, he wanted it to be perfect, formidable, hoping that Neil would acknowledge his skills, even if it was nothing but an approving nod. Then it went on - whenever Neil talked about something he liked, a certain book, record, musician or anything, Chris would remember and do his own research, get the book from the library for example, so that he could talk about the same things. On one occasion he took a whole load of Shakespeare plays home and tried to read them. At the next opportunity he said something to Neil about _The Merchant of Verona_ and Neil chuckled and said _Oh, been reading Shakespeare, eh? What’s your opinion on_ Othello and Juliet? _That’s my favourite._ And that was the first and the last time they ever talked about Shakespeare, and Chris felt like an idiot. But for some reason, he’s always wanted Neil to think that he could keep up with him in terms of his education, his sheer infinite wisdom about music. Even though Neil has never given him a reason to think he would consider Chris less intellectual than himself, Chris still sees himself as the very common boy from Blackpool he’s been all his life. And Neil is literate, a journalist, a writer. He’s charming. Maybe even attractive ( _Maybe?_ the little devil interferes. _He bloody IS, dumbass!_ ). 

It’s a chilly evening and the longer he stands outside the shop, the more he feels the cold. When the clock strikes six he finally decides to go home and while he’s unlocking the door, he looks at the _Tennant / Lowe_ name tag. Suddenly he feels a bit melancholic. London won’t be forever, he knows that. Unless he finds a way to make lots of money before he has to return to Liverpool and finish his course. 

When he enters the flat, Neil comes out of the kitchen, a spatula in his hand. 

“Hey,“ he says. “Have you been working extra hours?“

“Yeah, I had some stuff to finish before the weekend,“ Chris answers, his eyes fixed to the floor. “Sorry.“

Neil shakes his head. “No worries, I was just wondering. Have you had dinner?“

“No.“

They sit together in the kitchen and eat what Neil calls his grim stir-fry, brown rice, broccoli and soy sauce. Chris doesn't really understand what’s grim about it, but it’s nicer than one might think. After dinner they do the washing up together, which means Chris does the washing and Neil the drying. They don’t talk much. 

Once they’re done, Chris is thinking about having a nice, long shower to warm himself up again, when Neil suddenly starts talking. 

“Uhm, there’s a thing tomorrow, at Heaven. A band’s playing there. Probably not really your cup of tea, but I’m supposed to write a review about the performance.“ He sounds a bit weird - like an actor who has trouble memorising his lines. Chris wonders if he had planned to start the conversation for a while already and is now reciting from an imaginative piece of paper. Neil clears his throat. “Would you, uhm, I mean, do you wanna come?“

“Oh.“ Chris is a bit surprised that Neil wants to go to Heaven with him again. “Tomorrow evening?“

“Yeah. They’ll be playing for an hour and after that there’s a party called _DecaDance_.“ He sounds a bit more normal again now. “It’s a new concept, I think. I thought you might like to go.“ He grins. “You won’t even have to pay for the ticket, because I have a press card.“

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great,“ Chris says. The thought of going back to Heaven with Neil intrigues him, but then another thought pops up - is there really a band playing or is Neil just trying to find an excuse to go back? Maybe he can find out. “It’s funny they’re sending you there after you went there with me, isn't it?“

“Oh, it’s Darren’s fault. You know, the guy I met there. They asked if any of us had not been there before and he looks at me and goes _Oh, Neil most definitely has NOT been there_ , and I got the job.“

“Is he coming too?“ 

“Yeah, to take photos.“

Chris nods, hoping that Neil can’t read his mind now like he usually does: he doesn’t want him to know that he’s not overly happy to hear that someone else will join them. And it seems that Neil’s telling the truth, it’s mainly work-related, but he’s asked him anyway. And that’s most likely a good thing. “Well, I’d like to come,“ Chris says and a smile appears on Neil’s face. 

“Cool. Fantastic.“ Neil seems a bit unsure about what to do next. 

“I wish I had your job,“ Chris says. “You get paid to visit clubs.“

“Believe me, it’s not always that easy. Remember that intern who rang me yesterday? Well, he delivered the article on my desk today by twelve, along with some carrot cake, and I looked at it and it’s a handwritten piece of paper. And his handwriting is like hieroglyphs. So I have to decode the whole thing first, which takes me an hour, then rewrite it all with the typewriter, only because he’s so bloody naff. The cake was nice, though.“

“At least you have a job you’re good at and you like doing,“ Chris says. “I mean, this architecture stuff is nice and all, but I don’t know if it’s really what I wanna do.“ His voice lowers as he talks and he feels a bit embarrassed. 

“So? Then do something else.“

“And _what_? I do like the work at the office, it’s great, really. But what if I don’t like it anymore in 5 years, but then I have to do it? Every day for the next… well, until I’m old?“

“There’s still time to figure it out, isn't there? You’re only 22.“

“Dunno. Sometimes I feel like I’m heading in the wrong direction. You know? My mum always wanted me to become a musician, like my grandfather. But how many musicians actually get paid properly? Not so many. Architects do. They make lots of money.“

Neil looks at Chris in a sympathetic way. 

“Anyway,“ Chris says. “I think I’m just going to shower now and then-“

“Hold that thought,“ Neil interrupts him. “You’ll have time for that later.“ 

Neil walks over to his desk and picks up his notebook, opens it and tears a page out of it. Then he hands it to Chris. On the paper he’s written down chords: Cm, Eb, Bb, Cm, Cm, Eb, Bb, Cm.  
Chris looks at him and doesn't understand. Meanwhile, Neil has taken his guitar out of its case and sits down on the floor. He plucks the strings to see if it’s in tune, looks back at Chris and points to the keyboard.

“I’ll play the chords I’ve given you,“ he says. “And we’ll see how long it takes you to come up with a suitable riff.“

Chris stares at him. Neil’s face is dead serious and his voice also leaves no doubt that he means it. It’s the voice he used to talk to his useless intern. Chris’s natural impulse is to tell him to shut up and stop bossing him around, but he doesn’t. He knows that Neil is challenging him and he doesn’t want to look like a wuss.

“Of you go,“ Neil commands, and once again Chris thinks that it must be absolutely awful to have Neil as a colleague, or worse, as one’s boss. 

He walks over to the synthesiser, switches it on, sits down and places his hands on the keys. 

“I’ll give you a rhythm. Just play along.“ Neil looks right at him, still serious, but also encouraging. “Show me what you can do.“

Chris takes a deep breath and nods, and then Neil begins to play. 

At first Chris only listens, he’s taking it all in, the chord changes, the strumming pattern, the pace. Then he plays a chord, holds it, stops again. It doesn’t quite go with what he’s been given. He tries another one and it already sounds a lot better, but still not right. He shuts his eyes and tries to blank out everything else, so that he can solely focus on the music and let it guide him. His fingers run over the keys and hit some of them, they form a simple melody. He takes his left hand off the keys and starts tapping his fingers against the body of the instrument to create a beat. With his right hand he continues to play the melody. 

When he opens his eyes again, he realises that Neil has stopped playing, and he turns around to look at him. 

“Wow,“ Neil says.

“What’ye mean, wow?“

“You’re a bloody genius, Chris,“ Neil says. “How long did it take you, five minutes? And you gave me a melody and a beat.“

Chris feels his face getting hot. Nobody has ever called him a genius, especially not someone who is more likely to be a genius than himself. And it was Neil who made him do this, wasn’t he? 

“Have you got any lyrics for this?“ Chris asks. 

“No, not yet. But they’ll come. Sometimes you have the lyrics first, sometimes the melody and the rhythm. Whichever is missing, it’ll come.“ Neil smiles, and it gives Chris a ton of different feelings. He’s humble, excited, flattered and there is a strange, sudden affection for Neil as well. Maybe a trace of arousal, even. 

“Do you sometimes think that you’re not supposed to follow a straight line?“ Neil asks. 

“I, erm…“ Chris stops again. “What?“

“I mean, do you think that there is _more_ ,“ Neil explains. “For you. More than a normal job, marriage, children, all that. I sometimes think there must be something else, something… outstanding.“ 

Hearing this, Chris begins to wonder if Neil is actually able to read his thoughts. It’s possible. He always seems to know what Chris thinks, which makes it impossible for Chris to lie to him.

“Maybe,“ he answers. “I just don’t really know if this _something_ is within an architect’s office.“

“If you don’t want to be an architect, there are other opportunities. You just have to take them. You have to find out what you _really_ want. And then there’ll be a way.“

Right now, the only thing Chris really wants is to ask Neil if he remembers what happened between them on Wednesday morning. And what he thinks about it. But it’s not the right time to bring this topic up. Instead he asks him to play the chords again and they end up sitting in the living room until after midnight, experimenting with the chord changes and arguing over the lyrics. The music creates an intimacy between them, which is almost as intense as what Chris remembers from what might or might not have been a dream - singing or playing an instrument in front of other people is like taking all your clothes off to reveal your purest, most vulnerable self. Chris begins to wonder if the physical attraction between them could have been caused by the intimacy they already share through their music. If physical intimacy has become inevitable. 

Later he lies awake, asking himself how Neil would react if he just went over to the bedroom and back into his bed. And if another touch of their lips could even turn into a real kiss. If Neil would want that and also, if he’d want it himself. Going to a gay club is one thing. Kissing a guy from your structural stability class behind a shelf in the university library is another thing. And that was long before he moved to London. But nothing else has ever happened, and until last Wednesday Chris didn't even expect something to happen - it’s not that he felt he was missing out on anything. If nothing had ever happened, it would have been fine. 

He pushes the thoughts away again and back into his unconscious mind, where they’ve come from. To make himself sleepy, he tries to concentrate on the ticking of the clock, but it still takes another hour until he finally falls asleep.

________

They meet Darren at Charing Cross the next evening, and he looks surprised when he sees Chris.

“You didn’t tell me about your… plus one,“ he says to Neil. His eyes are fixed on Chris. “Haven’t we met before?“

“Yeah,“ Chris answers. “I was, erm, in Heaven. With Neil.“ Only after he’s said it, he becomes aware of the ambiguity of the words. 

Darren nods, smirking. _So here you are_ , his look says, _in Heaven, with Neil, AGAIN_. “Oh, yeah, I remember. Well, it will be good to have a third opinion. Shall we?“

Chris can feel Darren’s eyes on him all the way over to the club and he almost starts to believe that _I slept in Neil’s bed_ is written on his forehead. They enter Heaven at about half past eight and the band is not supposed to start until 9, so there’s time for some drinks.

“So,“ Darren says to Chris, “what are you doing in London?“

“I work at an architect’s office,“ Chris answers. “I’m studying architecture in Liverpool. It’s part of my course.“

“And how did you two…“

“We met in a shop,“ Neil answers. “Hifi shop, just where I live. And we started talking, and Chris was interested in the synthesiser I got.“

Darren gives Chris a knowing smile which he can’t quite construe. “I bet he was.“

“Chris plays the piano,“ Neil says. “I mean, better than myself. He can do more with the synth than I can.“

“Oh, so you’re making music together?“

Chris decides to leave the talking to Neil. He’s much better at it anyway and if he doesn't say anything himself, he won’t say anything he’ll regret later, either. 

“Well, nothing serious. But we’re probably already better than these guys we’re just about to… endure.“

“Oh come on, they might not be _that_ bad.“ Darren laughs and turns to Chris again. “He’s always so biased. If he doesn't know a band or a musician, he’s always like _They’re gonna suck_.“

“At least I’m not disappointed then if they _do_ suck,“ Neil answers. “And quite a lot of them do, unfortunately.“

“So what are they like?“ Chris asks. 

“They’re some sort of glam rock meets pop kind of thing,“ Darren says. “From Sussex. It’s their first live performance in London and Neil’s critic will probably make sure it’s also their last one.“

Neil gives him a smack on the shoulder. “I’m offended. I’m not really mean, just honest.“

“Did you see that?“ Darren looks at Chris. “He hit me. He’s always beating up people.“ 

They make their way to the stage just before 9, but the band is late. Chris watches Neil making a note on his notepad, his eyebrows raised, then he shakes his head and mutters something like “Unbelievable“ to himself. They stand close to the stage and the later it gets, the fuller it gets, too. Chris feels himself pushed against Neil several times when people squeeze past them and every time it happens, he’s tempted to keep the contact, to see what kind of reaction it may cause. But he feels that even these brief moments of physical closeness make him nervous, so he doesn’t dare to do it. And the main reason Neil is here is, after all, his work, so it would be inappropriate to distract him.

At quarter past, Neil starts to complain about the band being late and Chris decides to disappear for a while, so he offers to get them new drinks. He stops at the bar for a moment and tries to spot Neil, but it’s too dark. He remains at the bar for a few minutes to collect himself, before he dives back into the crowd. 

“Are you alright?“ Neil asks when he comes back.

“Sure, why?“

“You’re looking a bit… I don't know. Tired.“

“Maybe I didn't sleep too well recently,“ Chris answers. He knows that he’s walking on thin ice and that the alcohol is making him chatty again. If he’s not careful he’ll tell Neil that he slept a lot better in his bed. Neil tries to read his face, but Chris looks away. He doesn't want Neil to see what he’s thinking.

“Yeah. Maybe,“ Neil says. Chris is not sure if he’s heard a trace of regret in his voice. 

The band finally starts playing at half past 9. The sound is somewhere between Soft Cell and Sweet, which wouldn’t be a bad thing, if it was more than a poor imitation. Neither the underlying sexiness of Soft Cell, nor the glamorous yet dirty guitar riffs of Sweet actually show. The melodies are simple and not very catchy. There’s a singer, a guy with a guitar and, of course, a synth player. 

“They won’t make it,“ Neil comments after they’ve played two songs. “They aren’t authentic. Look, the singer desperately tries to be Marc Almond, and he clearly isn’t. The guitar guy tries to be Andy Scott, and he isn't him either. And the synth player…“

“Vince Clarke,“ Chris says. “And of course he isn’t Vince Clarke. He’s just standing there. Looks like he’s not even doing anything, that miserable sod.“

Neil looks at Chris. “I was gonna say, he reminds me of you, actually.“ 

“Oh. Well, thank you for that.“ 

Neil smiles. “Don’t worry,“ he says. “You’re better than the bloke up there.“ And it fills Chris’s heart with warmth. He smiles back. 

The actual gig only lasts for 45 minutes, due to the late start. Halfway through, Darren leaves Chris and Neil to take photos from another angle, and Chris isn't really paying any attention to the band anyway. He finds it a lot more fascinating to watch Neil concentrating and making notes, and the longer he looks, the more little details he notices: a raised eyebrow that signals disapproval, a twitch at the corners of his mouth when he finds something amusing. When he makes notes, he tends to quickly wet his lips with his tongue. And every now and then he pushes his glasses back up his nose, using the middle finger of his right hand. Chris can’t look away, and so it happens that Neil eventually looks back. 

_Did I dream that we almost kissed, or was it real?_ Chris asks with his eyes. He can’t look away and he knows Neil can see the question in his face. For some reason, they’ve always been able to have these wordless conversations. And now there’s only one thing going through Chris’s mind, and he knows that Neil knows what it is. Neil opens his mouth to say something, and in that very moment, Darren returns. 

“If we wanna go backstage and talk to them, we have to be quick, they’re playing their last song,“ he says. “And they won't stick around for too long, apparently. Just spoke to the manager.“

“Backstage? I don’t really want to talk to them.“

“Oh come on Tennant, we’re supposed to _work_ here!“

“I’m supposed to write a review, not an interview.“

“And? What do you think about them?“

“Imagine you’re throwing Soft Cell and Sweet into a washing machine, and you wash them for so long that all their colour has faded when you get them out. That’s what these guys are. A washed out version of bands which already exist.“

Chris chuckles. It must really suck to be famous, when people like Neil write a critique about you. 

“Well, I’ll go, anyway, take some more photos,“ Darren says. “I’ll let you know if they say anything interesting. Are you guys gonna stay for this DecaDance thing?“

Chris looks at Neil. 

“Uhm…“ Neil looks back at Chris, thinking about his answer. “Yeah, I think we’ll stay for a bit, shall we?“ Chris nods. 

“OK, I’ll catch up with you later,“ Darren says. Then he shoulders his camera and disappears in the crowd. Meanwhile a staff member appears on the stage and invites everyone to stay for the party, which will be a ‘fab night, featuring nothing but the most decadent and danceable music of the decade.’ 

“Now that sounds promising,“ Neil says. 

They go back to the bar to get another drink and once they’ve received them, they stand and watch as the dance floor fills up. 

“I hope you didn't get bored,“ Neil says. “But it can only get better now.“

“No, it was fine. Really. So, thanks again for taking me.“ 

“Sure.“ 

Chris sips his beer. “And, erm… you won’t have any problems? Like, I mean, earlier, Darren looked at me like… I think he thought we were…“

Neil laughs. “Let him think whatever he wants,“ he says. “He’s harmless.“ 

“Yeah, it’s just…“ Chris clears his throat. “I just hope there won’t be any rumours now, about you, or whatever. I mean obviously everybody can come here, but it’s mainly a gay audience, and people always judge other people, so even if you come here and you’re straight, like you are, then you still get judged. And he’s seen us here twice together now.“ He stops. He has no idea what he’s actually trying to say, and Neil seems to find it amusing. 

“Straight,“ he repeats. “What exactly makes you think I’m straight?“

For a moment, Chris doesn't show any reaction at all, he isn’t sure he’s actually heard it right. Then his brain slowly starts to process the words. Neil’s asked him a question - it’s not a statement. 

He wants to know what makes Chris think he is straight; that is, first of all, not an ambiguous question. It’s like _oh, what exactly makes you think I’m a journalist_ , or _what exactly makes you think I’m an architect?_ Or it could be a trick question. But then, it also could imply that he’s not straight. Or it could just be Neil being Neil and making a joke. 

“Errrrm…,“ Chris begins. “Your girlfriends, for example?“

“You mean the ones I’m hiding in the basement?“

“Well, you had a girlfriend, right?“

“Yes. I HAD. She left.“

Chris doesn't know what to answer or what Neil wants to hear from him. Unconsciously he starts to pull off the label of the bottle in his hands, and Neil is watching him doing it. 

“You seem a bit shocked,“ Neil says with a grin. “I’ve never ever claimed to be straight, have I?“

Chris thinks about it and the answer is no, he has not. But he’s also never said he was anything else. With his fingernails he scrapes the last bits of the label off of the bottle. He should say something, but he doesn't know what one is supposed to say in a situation like this.

The words he finally goes for are, “I… had no idea.“ 

“I thought you might have had at least a bit of an idea after, when was it… Wednesday morning.“ Neil just casually mentions it. Maybe he doesn't even realise what these words mean. They mean it was real. It wasn't a dream. The heat returns to Chris’s face and he clenches his fingers around the bottle. Now he really doesn't know what to say or do anymore, and he looks down. 

“Anyway,“ Neil says, ending the topic before it really has a chance to come up, “to answer your original question: No, I won’t have any problems.“  
Chris simply nods. The fact that their not-a-kiss-thing apparently really happened is something he might have already known, but at least before, there was the chance that it had been a dream. Because as long as nobody ever proves something is real, there’s always the chance it isn’t. Now Neil has made it real. Undeniably real. He turned it into a fact and also into something not worth talking about, all within one breath of air. 

Chris puts his empty bottle back on the counter. He feels the alcohol in his head and on his mind and it makes the music louder, the strobe effects brighter and himself bolder. 

“It’s called Deca _Dance_ , this thing here, innit,“ he says. “So, I’m gonna dance.“ He turns around and heads over to the dance floor, past hot, sweaty bodies. The mingled scent of different perfumes and body odours lingers in the air. It’s narcotic. He doesn't actually want to dance, he just wants to get away from Neil for a minute. And he wants to think about the feeling of his lips on his own, now that he knows it really happened. He remembers his lips being very soft, and the skin around them slightly stubbly, but not rough. And that a bolt of lightning struck his body, when their lips touched.

For a while Chris hangs around next to the dance floor and watches the people around him, but it’s not as funny as it was when he and Neil did that together. Maybe it was stupid to walk away. But he has no idea what to say to Neil now, so he doesn't want to go back, either. 

“I thought you were dancing.“

It’s Neil’s voice. He must have followed him. _Can’t have a minute of privacy, can I_ , Chris thinks, before he turns around to face him. 

“I didn’t like the song,“ he says. “I was just on me way back.“

Neil tilts his head and looks at him. There are a lot of questions written on his face: _Why did you walk away? Are you alright? Did I do anything wrong? Do you think YOU did anything wrong?_

Chris can see all these questions and he doesn't have any answers, so he looks around and tries to spot someone doing something ridiculous. Then they could make fun of it and ease up the situation, but he cannot think of anything funny he could say. Instead his eyes get fixed on a couple, two guys dancing, facing each other. First they’re moving their bodies against each other to the rhythm of the music, then they kiss. Passionately. Chris feels sweat on his forehead and he craves some cool, fresh air. When he finally looks away, he realises that Neil has been observing him the whole time. 

“Chris, look,“ Neil begins, “if I made you feel uncomfortable, or strained, or anything, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to. I don't know what happened there the other day, but…I’m sorry, OK?“

Chris looks at him and he wants to tell him that there is no reason to be sorry. But the words are stuck in his throat. He looks at Neil and at the curly strands cheekily hanging over his forehead, at his shoulders and arms, and he remembers how it felt to touch them, even though there was the thick fabric of the duvet between his hand and Neil’s body. 

“Yeah, OK,“ he says. “It’s fine. I mean, nothing happened, really, it’s not that we- OYY!“

Suddenly, Chris feels himself pushed against Neil. Some extraordinarily expressive dancer has bumped into him and he stumbles. Instinctively, Neil reaches out and grabs Chris by his shoulders. Once Chris has regained his balance, he looks at Neil, who hasn't let go of him yet. 

The song which has been playing ends and Chris recognises the one that just starts - it’s _Fade to Grey_ by Visage. He has no idea what the French bits mean, like when Neil comes up with his French phrases, but the bass line of that song is really good. It’s sexy - there is something erotic about it, and the rhythm takes over the atmosphere in the room. It fills up with sex. And Neil’s hands are still on his shoulders. 

“The music really isn’t that bad,“ Chris says. His mouth just starts talking, like it always does when he gets nervous. 

“Yeah… Did you know that guy from Ultravox is in this group?“

“Oh. No. Had no idea.“

“Well, yeah, Billy Currie, he… he’s also a keyboarder.“

“Oh.“ Chris has no idea what to say. Neil’s hands are on his shoulders and they’re having a desperately meaningless conversation about Billy Currie. 

“OK, I’m sorry too,“ Chris says, “I didn’t even know you were, erm, whatever, not straight, and I fell asleep in your bed twice, which is ridiculous.“ He bites his lower lip. “I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what’s happening now, or who Billy Currie is, I don’t even know if I…“

“Chris,“ Neil interrupts him and the grip on his shoulders tightens. He looks right into his eyes. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.“ 

Chris is so surprised by that demand, and Neil’s suddenly very dominant tone, that he actually shuts up. And then the world stops turning. Everybody else in the room freezes, and there’s only them left, and the music. Neil moves his hand from Chris’s shoulder to his neck and Chris feels his heartbeat synchronising with the bass line of the song. He licks his lips, because they’re dry. The song, the bass line, the alcohol, they're making him confident. Confident enough to put his hands on Neil’s waist, and by doing so, he’s also pulling him closer. And he can feel the gap between them narrowing down.

Every beat of the song becomes a heartbeat. The strobe light becomes a blink of an eye. And all the other people around them stop existing, time stands still. And then Neil grabs him by the collar of his t-shirt, pulls him close and he kisses him, and the lightning strikes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, extra points if you can guess which song I'm referring to when Neil hands these chords over to Chris - without googling them! Yes. My cheesy song references have reached a new level.


	7. 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back home, away from Heaven, Chris and Neil get a little closer (to heaven).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your Sunday dinner is served, and it’s served _hot_. Yes. You might have noticed that little orange M there now, right? That means if you (yes, _you_ ) are under age, you have to leave. Now. Because there is a great power inherent to this M and I know that it’s totally sufficient to keep you from reading this content, which is for 18+ audiences only. If you decide to stay despite my warning, please make sure you read this in company of your legal guardian. (Yes, I know that's only your dog next to you, dressed up as your mum. But I'll pretend I didn't notice. OK? OK.)

They are in a taxi. Chris doesn’t dare look at Neil, because he knows that if he does, he will not be able to look away again. Since they’ve left Heaven, neither of them has said a single word.

Chris tries to review the last half hour, but everything after the kiss is a bit blurry. He doesn't know how long they remained on the dance floor, united in a kiss which was the most passionate one he’s ever experienced. The first real one, too, to be honest. Neil’s hand was on the back of his head, his fingers brushing through his hair. He remembers that very clearly. And he looked at Neil and ran his hands over his back, holding him close, before kissing him again. His own boldness surprised him and it definitely wasn't a rational decision he made when his hands travelled down and slipped into the back pockets of Neil’s trousers. Now, in the taxi, he can’t really believe he did this. He’s never touched someone’s butt before.

Then, several lightyears later, Neil pulled away and he held Chris’s head in his hands to keep him from resuming the kiss, and he said something like, “Maybe we should go home.“ And Chris nodded and said “Yeah, we should.“ They went to the backstage area first, where they found Darren and told him they were leaving. Chris remembers that Neil talked to him, but he doesn't know about what. He just stood there, waiting, trying not to look like someone who has just kissed his friend on the dance floor in a gay club, after having assumed for months that said friend was straight. He felt like an actor in a theatre scene. As if he was looking at himself from somewhere off stage.  
The next thing he remembers is following Neil outside and feeling like he was walking on air. And how good and refreshing the cool February air was, when they got outside. Then there was the taxi. And that’s where he is now. 

He holds his hands in his lap and looks out the window. Unlike all the previous days, he isn't actually thinking a lot. He’s just going through the moment on the dance floor over and over again. He didn't know before how great a kiss can be. Or that there was a connection between his lips and other parts of his body, which is where he felt the kiss, too. He still feels it there.  
The taxi stops and Neil pays the driver. Chris gets out and takes a deep breath. He’s almost completely sober again. 

Neil unlocks the door and they go upstairs and enter the flat. Chris can hear Neil shutting the door behind him and putting his keys away. He takes his coat off, then his shoes, and Neil does the same, without taking his eyes off of Chris. The atmosphere from the club has given way to the privacy of their own home now, and Chris realises that it’s a lot easier to get carried away in a club under the influence of alcohol, with music playing that encourages you to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Now, at home, there is nothing but silence. And it’s so absolute that Chris can hear Neil breathing, he can hear his own heart and he’s sure Neil can hear it, too. 

Neil walks up to him and Chris doesn't move. They share a look. For a moment, Chris is sure that Neil will kiss him again, maybe push him against the wall even, but he just walks past him. 

“I’ll go brush my teeth,“ Neil says and he disappears in the bathroom, leaving Chris baffled and not sure what to do. He sits down on the armrest of the sofa and waits for Neil to come back. When he does, Neil looks surprised to see Chris sitting on the sofa. He casts a glance over to the bedroom, and then back at Chris, invitingly. When Chris gets up, he doesn’t wait for him and leads the way into the bedroom and Chris follows him. 

“I was almost worried you’d sleep on the bloody sofa again,“ Neil says when Chris enters the room, to which Chris has no answer. Does that mean he was waiting for Chris to sleep in his bed again, ever since Wednesday? He’s taken his glasses off and after polishing them, he places them on the bedside table and looks back at Chris. 

Chris can’t speak. He thinks of all the things he was able to do at Heaven, but now, without the music, the strobe light and the drinks, it all seems undoable. He doesn't even know what he expected when Neil suggested to go home. Maybe another kiss, or something like that, then sleep in separate rooms? How naive. But doesn’t he want it, too? Whatever _it_ is - Chris has no idea what’s going to happen. He feels like a student just before an exam for which he is not prepared at all. 

Chris grits his teeth and tries to find the boldness that emerged within him at Heaven. He makes a step towards Neil and they slowly approach each other, until they meet in the middle of the room. 

“Heaven, eh?“ Neil says with a coy smile and it makes Chris chuckle. For a moment he even forgets that he's nervous. After all, this is still Neil in front of him. Not a stranger. This man who makes him feel so warm from inside sometimes, who always knows how to make him laugh and who has the most wonderful smile in the world. 

“Yeah.“ Chris's voice almost breaks. “The music was, er, good tonight.“

“Wasn’t it? I…“ Neil pauses and his eyes are moving from Chris’s eyes down to his lips. “I’m glad you came along.“ His voice is low. 

“Me too.“ 

“There is something special about club music, isn’t there,“ Neil continues and he seems to have stepped closer to Chris as well. “You’re in this world, separated from the real world, and a good song can make you feel invincible. With the right soundtrack, all your feelings intensify. A song can have the power to make couples fall in love, and others break up, it can create elation and misery. And passion. Didn’t you say you want to write songs that could be played there? At Heaven?“

“Yeah, I guess, but…I dunno if I could.“

“Well, maybe you can do more than you think. If you _really_ want it.“ At this point, their eyes meet in a moment of silent, mutual consent. And it’s sufficient. Tentatively, Neil puts a hand on Chris’s chest and slowly moves it down, and Chris puts his own hand on Neil’s. He looks into Neil’s eyes, and at his lips, then at his eyes again. 

“I think you already know what you want,“ Neil says and Chris doesn’t know whether he’s still talking about making music or something else. “It’s what your heart tells you. All you have to do…“ And now both his hands are on Chris’s waist, and Chris’s hands are on Neil’s arms, “…is listen.“ These last words are already breathed against Chris’s lips and then they find each other again, and they both inhale deeply, breathing each other in. Chris is sure he could kiss Neil for hours like this, without ever getting tired of it. But now, he can also feel that his body is beginning to beg for something else. More than a kiss. And he’s not the only one who becomes aware of it. 

Neil moves his hand further down. For a moment, he rests it on the zip of Chris’s jeans, and even this light touch makes him shiver. A whining sound leaves Chris’s mouth and he can feel Neil smiling. Then the hand disappears again and it finds its way under his t-shirt, making every hair on his chest stand on end. But it feels good. Hell, does it feel good. 

Neil looks at Chris and tugs on his t-shirt, then waits for a reaction. For a moment, a hint of panic rises inside Chris - the thought of taking his clothes off makes him blush. What if Neil doesn’t like the way he looks? But then there are his fingers dancing over his skin, his eyes full of yearning, and they make him forget this thought again. Chris lifts his arms up to pull his t-shirt over his head. Once it’s gone, Neil scans his upper body with a content expression, like someone who has unwrapped a birthday present. Then he opens the first button of his own shirt. Chris watches him doing it, and when Neil gets to the third button, he takes action. Neil seems pleasantly surprised when Chris starts to fumble around on the fourth button, even though it takes him a while to open it. He moves his hands over Chris’s chest, making it even more difficult for Chris to concentrate on unbuttoning the shirt. When he’s done, Neil strips off his shirt and now Chris is the one who gazes. It feels almost familiar to see Neil’s naked chest after their awkward encounter a while ago, only that Neil’s dry now and it’s alright to look. And to touch. And that’s what Chris does, looking doesn't suffice anymore. He needs to know how Neil feels, he’s like a blind person touching a sculpture to create a picture in their mind. Neil’s body is warm, the hair on his chest is soft and shorter than his own, and his nipples stiffen under Chris’s hands. 

After some endless minutes of exploring and mapping their bodies, only interrupted by some tender kisses, Neil takes Chris’s hand and walks over to the bed. They sit down at the edge and Neil puts his arm around his waist, which sends a shiver down Chris’s spine. He’s trembling and when he looks down, he realises that he’s still holding on to Neil’s hand. 

“You’re nervous,“ Neil says. “Don’t be.“

“Neil, I- I dunno how…“ Chris tries to find something in the room to fix his eyes on. He can’t look into Neil’s eyes anymore, so he just stares at the lamp next to the bed. 

Neil smiles again. “But I know.“ 

Chris nods, and it’s all he can do. He still feels Neil’s hand on him, the one he’s not holding, and by now his body is screaming to be touched. If Neil wants to take the lead, he’ll follow, wherever he’ll take him. He knows that they’ve already gone too far to stop. 

Neil is stroking his back with his free hand, then he withdraws the other hand from Chris’s clasp and touches his face, drawing a line with his fingertips down from his cheekbone to his chin, where he stops. Then he leans forward and lays a kiss just next to Chris’s mouth, and more follow, all the way around his lips, but without touching them. Again, Chris is amazed how soft Neil’s skin is, and it makes him aware of his own chin and cheeks being a lot more stubbly and rough. He allows Neil to torture him for some time, while his hands roam over his body. He’s firm and slim and he smells indeed like his pillow; there’s his shampoo, a hint of aftershave, and this last component which is _him_. It’s beguiling. 

Neil returns to Chris’s lips, touches them with the tip of his tongue and Chris shudders. He parts them and Neil slips his tongue in and pulls him closer. Chris feels thousands of little fires igniting in his body. He’s never been very interested in kissing before and rather thought of it as an unnecessary thing to do, and too intimate. The way Neil kisses him now proves him all wrong. It’s vital. It stimulates every single nerve in his body, especially those between his legs and the longer they kiss, the more uncomfortable his jeans become. 

Neil stretches himself out on the bed, takes Chris’s hand and gently pulls him down. Chris lies down next to him and Neil wraps his arms around him, kisses him again, then moves away from his mouth and kisses his cheeks, chin and finally his neck. Chris shuts his eyes and moans, louder than intended, when Neil gently sucks on his skin. He feels his nervousness being pushed away by flaming desire. Neil shifts one of his legs over him, so that he’s almost on top of Chris now.

He opens his eyes and sees Neil smiling. He smiles back and it feels reassuring, it’s a smile that says _Please don’t stop, I want this, I want YOU._ And then he cries out in pleasure and shuts his eyes again, because Neil has slipped his hand into his jeans and he’s moving it slowly over his erection. 

“Wow,“ Neil whispers into his ear. Then he lifts himself up to remove his trousers. Chris looks away. He wants to take his jeans off too, but he also feels a sudden shyness. Taking his t-shirt off was one thing, but taking his jeans off… That means Neil will see _everything_. And there’s the fact that he’s never actually looked at a naked man before, either. Not in a situation like this, that is. It would be a catastrophe if he found out now that he doesn’t like the sight of a naked man. 

Chris’s hesitation doesn't remain unnoticed. Before he lies down again, Neil signals Chris to lift the duvet up. He covers them with it and forms a safe, protected space underneath the duvet, exclusively for the two of them. A space where everything is possible and where Chris feels more confident again and less exposed. He moves closer to Neil, runs his hands over his upper body and when he touches a certain spot on his back, Neil shivers. 

“Did you like that?“ Chris whispers. Having done something that Neil found pleasurable excites him.

Neil chuckles quietly. “I did, yeah.“ He leans forward and breathes a kiss on Chris’s forehead, then one on his nose, and finally on his mouth again. For a while they just indulge in the kiss, tasting each other, exploring, their tongues intertwined in a slow yet fiery dance, which soon becomes more and more urgent. That’s when Neil pulls himself on top of Chris and kneels over him, resting his hands next to his head. The new position makes Chris gasp, because Neil is very close to his crotch now. He bends down and kisses his collarbone.

“Do you wanna take these off?“ Neil breathes against his skin, while his fingers wander along the waistband of Chris’s jeans. 

“Yeah, I, I was going to,“ Chris answers. 

“I’ll manage.“ Neil smirks at him, then he crawls back and begins to pull down Chris's jeans. As he does it, he’s kissing Chris’s legs, every inch of skin he frees from the fabric. By the time he reaches his knees, Chris has lost himself completely in the sweet feeling of Neil’s lips on him. He lifts his legs up to pull them out of the jeans and once it’s off, Neil throws them on the floor. 

When Neil crawls back up to him, he somehow manoeuvres himself between Chris’s legs. Chris isn’t sure how this happened, but he’s not thinking about his actions anymore, and he spreads and bends his legs, embracing Neil with them. He can feel how hard Neil is, and he moans again.

“Is it OK?“ Neil asks. 

“It’s, er… Ohhhh God…“ Neil is now slowly moving his pelvis and Chris can’t finish the sentence. His body is begging for something to happen, and without rationally thinking about it, he puts his hands on Neil’s butt to push him closer against himself. Neil gasps under his grip. 

“Wow, slowly,“ he breathes. “Or do you want this to be over already?“ There’s a coquettish smile on his face. Chris wants to tell him that he never wants this to end, ever, but his brain still won’t put a sentence together. Neil begins to kiss his neck again and every kiss is an electric shock. He moves further down, stops at one of Chris’s nipples and lets his tongue play around it. Then he does the same to the other one. 

“Just lie back,“ Neil whispers, “and relax.“ And he goes further and further down, leaving a trace of kisses on his chest and stomach, until he finally reaches the spot where Chris needs him right now. First he only feels Neil’s breath against the highly sensitive skin, then his lips, kissing and caressing his pelvis and hip bones. When Neil puts a hand around his hard cock he groans loudly and completely surrenders. 

The next thing he feels is Neil’s tongue, wet and hot on him. He licks all the way from the shaft to the head, several times, before he covers Chris’s cock with his mouth and starts sucking. It’s almost too much to bear. This is nothing like getting himself off, which is more a necessity than a sexual act. Now, every fibre in his body is boiling, and hot waves of lust flush through him, rising from the centre of his body. His right hand is clenched into the sheets, the other one reaches down and grabs Neil’s hair, which causes Neil to let out a muffled moan.  
Chris’s moans turn into desperate cries and there is no chance for him to last long. Neil doesn’t show any mercy, his movements are excruciatingly slow, holding him right on the edge to the much needed climax. 

“Neil, I…“ Realising how close he already is, a feeling of shame hits him. Maybe because he’s never had an orgasm while someone else was in the same room, and he covers his face with his hands. “I’m gonna…Oh…“ 

Neil’s not listening to him and he doesn’t seem to care that Chris is about to come in his mouth. There is Neil’s hand on his shaft, the tip of his tongue on the head of his cock, the warmth of his mouth around it and some light pressure from his lips. And Chris doesn’t stand a chance, his body beats his mind and with a final cry he comes. His body trembles, he bends his back and for a moment he sees stars in front of his eyes. It’s the most powerful orgasm he’s ever experienced, like all these waves inside him have suddenly crashed against a cliff. A liberation. 

He sinks back into the pillow, breathing heavily and slowly becoming aware of what has just happened. It’s the most intimate thing one can share with another person, and he’s shared it with Neil now, he’s laid bare his soul right in front of him. At the same time, Chris feels awfully giggly, he easily could burst into hysterical laughter right now. 

Neil emerges from underneath the duvet and breathes a kiss on Chris’s shoulder. His breath is very unsteady and for a moment, when his own erection touches Chris’s leg, he looks as if he was in pain. Chris realises that Neil needs the same sort of release now, and he has no real idea how to give it to him. The only thing he can think of is to use his hand. 

Chris reaches down until his hand finds its purpose. What he feels is strange and familiar at the same time, and it most certainly does not feel weird - touching Neil feels _amazing_. And he doesn’t even need to do a lot. Neil moans loudly when Chris’s hand finds him, his voice is distorted with lust, which makes it sound higher pitched than usual. And terribly sexy. He thrusts into Chris’s hand and it doesn’t take long until his muscles contract, a shiver goes through him and he lets out a loud moan. Chris feels the result of Neil’s climax on his hand and he’s a bit surprised that he doesn’t find it repulsive. He feels nothing but affection in that moment. And pride. He’s managed to make Neil come, and the feeling is empowering.  
Neil rolls over on his back and sighs. His eyes are shut and there’s a smile on his face, it looks slightly empty-headed and purely blissful. Somehow Chris is sure that this expression is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He props his head up on his hand and watches Neil. When his breath has calmed down again, he opens his eyes and his mouth forms the words “Oh my,“ but it’s not audible. Then he turns away, opens the drawer of the bedside table and takes something out.

“Do you need a tissue?“

“Oh, erm, yeah, I…maybe,“ Chris answers and Neil hands him one with a grin. Chris wipes his hand clean and while he’s doing that, he starts giggling. And he can’t stop. It’s the endorphins and the adrenaline running through him, in combination with the awkwardness he feels when he wipes the sticky mess off of his hand. And the general weirdness of it all - he didn’t even mean to stay in Neil’s flat for more than a week, originally, and certainly he didn’t intend to pursue a relationship beyond friendship with him. Now there he is, in bed with Neil, wiping off the result of the most passionate thirty minutes of his entire life (might be very generous, but he has no idea how much time has actually passed) of his hands. 

“Sorry,“ Chris says once he’s able to talk again. “I don’t know where that came from.“

Neil chuckles. “It’s fine. It’s what sex does to you sometimes.“

Sex. Hearing Neil utter the word makes his face heat up. Chris allows himself to let the thought pass through his mind, _OK, so we just had sex, I had sex with Neil, didn’t I_ , to see how it makes him feel. The answer is, not bad at all. He wonders what happens next. Is one supposed to talk afterwards? Or cuddle? Or just go to sleep? 

Neil lies down next to him and Chris turns over to his side to face him, and they look at each other. Then Neil reaches out and puts his hand on Chris’s shoulder, a gentle touch, not meant to spark arousal again, only comforting and tender. 

“Y’alright?“

“Oh, God, yeah.“ What a question. Chris feels light and sleepy, his brain is switched off and a nice, warm feeling has spread through his entire body. He’s definitely very alright. “And, erm…are you?“ 

Neil smiles again. Such an infectious smile. “Yeah, I’m alright.“ He’s stroking Chris’s shoulder with his fingertips and Chris feels his eyes getting heavy. Eventually he yawns. 

“You’re tired,“ Neil says. 

“Maybe.“ 

“Come here.“ Neil lifts the duvet up and motions Chris to move closer to him. Chris does and Neil covers the two of them, like he did when he first asked Chris to sleep in his bed with him. Then he wraps his arms around Chris and breathes a kiss on his forehead. Chris shuts his eyes and the warmth, the closeness, the darkness and the sound of Neil’s breathing lull him to sleep within seconds.

________

When Chris wakes up, the sun is already shining into the bedroom, bathing it in a warm light. There is not a lot of noise coming in from outside - on a Sunday morning, even the King’s Road has a rest. Everything is peaceful.

The first thing he sees is Neil. He has turned round and away from him. His shoulders are uncovered, his hands tucked away under his head. _It really happened_ , Chris thinks. Looking at Neil’s bare back and shoulders, a strange feeling of confidence overcomes him. And guided by this feeling, he reaches out and begins to stroke Neil’s back with his fingertips, until Neil quietly moans and turns around. His eyes are sleepy and he’s not completely there yet, but he looks at Chris and returns the touch, his hands quickly find a way to his waist, his butt, down his thighs. 

Chris shuts his eyes again and drifts into a delirious state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He only concentrates on the feeling of Neil’s hands on him. It reminds him of the morning when they almost kissed, and how they were drawn towards each other. Something similar happens now, their hands seem to have developed a life of their own and they’re caressing and indulging each other, while their rational minds still haven’t woken up completely. 

Neil pulls Chris closer to him while he’s moving his hands over his hips. “You’re hard,“ he whispers with a sleepy, throaty voice. Then he pushes his leg between Chris’s legs, so that his thigh hits just the right spot. Chris moans. In this sleepy state of mind he’s highly sensitive and he knows it won’t take much to make him come right now. He leans in and kisses Neil’s cheek; he’d rather kiss him on the lips, but something lets him hang back. He’s always considered kissing a lot more intimate than sex itself, and while he’s confident enough to touch Neil, kissing is on a different level. And Chris is not sure if they are still on the same level of intimacy as they were the night before. But he quickly learns that there’s no reason to hesitate; Neil turns his head and finds Chris’s lips, kisses him and the grip of his hands around Chris’s waist becomes tighter. 

Neither of them says anything anymore, words are unnecessary. They both lie on their sides, arms wrapped around each other tightly, their bodies entwined and moving in a slow rhythm. It’s as if Chris knew instinctively what to do, he’s not actively thinking about it. And Neil is conducting him, he sets the rhythm and Chris follows. Their bodies are hot and Chris feels sweat on his chest. The feeling caused by grinding their naked bodies against each other is different from the feeling of Neil sucking his cock the night before - it’s warm and tingling, and it’s not only in his crotch, it’s in his chest, his legs, his head. After a while, the rhythm becomes faster and more unsteady, and they lose their coordination. 

And then Neil does something. He shoves his hand between them, and even though Chris doesn't know exactly _what_ Neil does, it feels amazing. And it seems to work for Neil himself, too, he’s somehow positioned his hand in a way that gives them both the last bit of help they need. Neil’s whole body becomes stiff and he tilts his head back and moans. Chris opens his eyes to see Neil’s face: his mouth is open and he licks his lips, his eyes are still closed. Seeing this pleasure and lust in Neil's face sends Chris over the edge. And this time, he doesn’t even feel the orgasm building up, it just happens, the warm feeling culminates and he shivers and moans loudly against Neil’s skin. And a second later, he feels Neil’s other hand on his butt, gripping him, then he cries out, his faced is pushed into the crook of Chris’s neck. Chris feels the wetness between them. He’s still holding Neil tightly pressed against himself. While they’re catching their breaths, Neil is stroking his back, and slowly they’re drifting into the waking state. 

“Well, good morning,“ Neil says after a while. 

“Morning,“ Chris mumbles into Neil’s hair. He is ready to go back to sleep again. 

“I need a shower now, I suppose.“ Neil grins. When Chris looks at him, he brushes his fingers through his hair and then rests it on his cheek. “And maybe we go have breakfast somewhere, afterwards?“

Chris nods. “Yeah, sounds great.“ Reluctantly he rolls on his back. The air feels cold on his skin without Neil in his arms. Neil gets up, grabs a few items of clothing and heads to the bathroom. Chris stares at the ceiling. _Everything is different now_ , he thinks. _I’m different. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m closer to being myself now than I’ve ever been._

He waits for Neil to leave the bathroom and then takes a long shower himself, brushes his teeth, shaves and puts on fresh clothes. When they leave the house together around 10 o’ clock, he feels like a whole new person and he wonders if the people passing them or the waitress in the café, where they have a nice full English breakfast, can see this new glow on his face.


	8. 8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris's boss provides a new opportunity and Neil takes Chris for a night time walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few serious notes. 
> 
> 1\. I've never ever been to Primrose Hill myself, so I don't know how it really looks like. I used Google Maps to describe their way up there. 
> 
> 2\. As you can see, I'm engineering this. It's drifting further and further away from reality. But that's how it goes! The fact that Chris was working on a staircase and some warehouses in 1981/82 is, indeed, a fact though. 
> 
> 3\. Unfortunately, I ran out of cheesy song references, I am so sorry. But it's so hard. I know it's what you're all here for. It's not the end of the world, though. Can I have one more chance? I hope you can forgive me (revenge is childish, y'know). OK, well, I wouldn't normally do this kind of thing, but: how about you let me know which song you would like to have hidden in the text and I'll weave it in. Make it a bit more interactive. Wouldn't that be absolutely fabulous?

Throughout the following week, Chris learns two things. The first thing is that excessive kissing, especially kissing a man in the morning before he’s had a shave, can lead to sore lips. The second thing is that Neil, who seems to be insatiable in the bedroom, doesn’t crave a lot of affection at daytime. After they’ve got up in the morning, everything goes back to the way it was before their kiss at Heaven, as if they were different people at night. They get on with their lives, joke around as they’ve always done, talk about work and food, but never touch each other, let alone kiss. That only happens after they’re done with all their activities for the day. And Chris doesn’t question it. He isn’t even 100% sure how this whole thing happened, what did it, how they’ve changed from being friends to _this_. He doesn’t want to spoil it and ask for more than Neil is willing to give. 

And that is, frankly said, a lot. Chris is a little surprised how often, now that the line is crossed once and for all, Neil seems to want him. On the first day he wonders if it’s some leftover energy from Heaven, but it doesn’t change in the following days. There isn’t a lot of variety in what they do, though, and Chris, as embarrassing as it is, isn’t able to last longer than a few minutes once Neil’s hands or mouth are on him. But Neil doesn’t seem to mind and so they spend a lot of time in bed, talking about music and about general things between these short but sweet episodes. In the evening they often realise that the fridge is nearly empty, so they go out again to have dinner somewhere.

As February moves on, Chris begins to think about other things more often, too. He knows that his internship will end on the 30th of April and he still has no idea what to do next. It’s not that he doesn’t want to finish his studies, but he also wants to stay in London. At least for a little while, now that things between Neil and himself have gone in a new direction. But he doesn’t know if it’s possible. 

He wouldn’t mind working somewhere else apart from the office, either. He’s had several jobs before - he’s been a dish washer, he’s worked at Pleasure Beach in Blackpool, it’s not that he’s picky. But finding a job in London is more difficult. Most of the time he tries to avoid the topic, to make Neil believe that he’s perfectly capable of sorting his life out. So capable, in fact, that he often forgets the topic even exists. 

By the end of February, the days begin to get longer and warmer and Chris is relieved that the cold, dull months are almost over. Life returns to the streets and people sit outside, taking in every bit of sunshine they can find. Neil is the first of the two of them who says good-bye to his winter coat, and within two days, he manages to catch a cold. 

Chris finds him on the sofa when he comes home from work one day, under a blanket, an empty mug on the floor with the tea-bag still in it. He must have left work early. Chris remembers Neil coughing in the morning and saying something about a sore throat. 

“Go away,“ Neil says. He sounds pretty pathetic. “I’m contagious. It could be the flu.“

“I told you, it’s not that warm out there,“ Chris says. He takes his shoes off and walks over to him. Before Neil can do anything against it, Chris has put his hand on Neil’s forehead. It’s warm, but not hot. “No fever,“ he says. “You don’t have the flu.“

“I feel awful.“

“You look awful, too.“ When he says that, Neil’s face falls, and Chris chuckles. He’s suddenly wanting to give Neil a big hug and tell him that he looks handsome as ever. “Seriously,“ he says instead. “I’ve never seen such a severe case of man-flu. Can’t believe you’re still alive!“

“I was already making my last will.“

“Can I have the synthesiser?“

“Now that I’m withering away, yes. Take it all. And my notes. Save them for posterity. My name shan’t be forgotten.“ He raises his voice, which he always does when he recites a quotation. “’It is a sad thing to think of, but there is no doubt that genius lasts longer than beauty.’“

“Is that Shakespeare?“

Neil rolls his his eyes. “No, it’s not. It’s from _The Picture of Dorian Gray._ “

“Dorian who?“

“Dorian Gray. By Oscar Wilde. Jesus, Chris.“ 

Chris decides not to react to it. It’s probably the illness that makes Neil a bit extra grouchy today. “Anyway. Do you want some more tea?“

“Don’t worry, I can do it.“ Neil coughs. “Honestly, I don’t want you to catch this.“

Chris sits down at the other end of the sofa and looks at Neil. He can’t quite tell what he feels, but it doesn’t bother him to see Neil being ill. It rather awakens something inside him which he has not felt before - the wish to make Neil feel better, somehow. 

“I can get you something from the pharmacy.“ 

Neil shakes his head. “No, I’ve got some anti cough stuff here, but I’m not a great lover of drugs.“

“OK.“ Chris wonders what else he could do, and tea seems to be a good start, even though Neil doesn’t want him to do it. He’s certainly not going to make the tea himself. Chris picks up the mug, goes to the kitchen and boils some water in the kettle. The package with the tea bags Neil has used before is still on the table and Chris takes a fresh one out. It’s a herbal blend with liquorice root for the throat which gives it a weird woody, sweetish smell. Chris finds it anything but tempting. He takes the tea to the living room and sits down next to Neil again. 

“Oh,“ Neil says, obviously irritated. “I told you not to do this.“ 

“I don’t like to be told what I have to do.“ Chris hands him the mug and Neil takes it. Hesitantly, Chris puts his hand on Neil’s leg and waits for a reaction. Neil looks at his hand, surprised, but then he smiles. 

“Thank you,“ he says. It warms Chris’s heart. 

“A pleasure. Now try to sleep again. That’ll sort you out.“ It’s what his mum has always told Chris whenever he’s been ill. Neil nods and sips the tea. Chris peers over to the synthesiser. “Would you mind if I play?“ he asks.

“Of course not.“ Neil shakes his pillow before he lies down again. 

Chris sits down and he knows that Neil’s watching him while he plays. He’s only improvising, trying to combine different bits and pieces he’s had in his head into a melody. They have neglected the song-writing recently, due to other things which seemed more important at the time. But quite often something will pop up in Chris’s head and he doesn’t like to lose these bits, even if it’s only a single sound. _All these words, all these sounds, they all wait to become songs_ , that’s what Neil said to him once, and he likes to think that it’s true. He turns round to see if there is any sort of reaction to his improvised composition, but it turns out that Neil has fallen asleep, so Chris decides to stop playing. He walks over to the sofa, pulls the blanket up to cover Neil’s shoulders and leaves to get all the things a sick person could possibly want. Later on, when he presents Neil with a selection of herbal teas, oranges (“Eat your vitamins, Chrissy, that’s what you need to get well again,“ his mum used to say), cough drops, VapoRub and a spray for the nasal congestion, Neil is so surprised and humbled that he doesn’t even complain when Chris insists on rubbing the VapoRub on his chest. 

“My God, that smells strong,“ he states. 

“Yeah, but it’ll help.“ Chris is still moving his hand over Neil’s chest, even though most of the stuff is already absorbed. It’s a new feeling to touch him without any sexual intentions, and he finds it incredibly hard to stop. 

“You really didn’t have to,“ Neil says. 

“I know.“

“You sleep in the bed, I’ll stay here.“ Neil turns his head away and coughs again. 

The thought of sleeping alone in Neil’s bed feels strange. “You should sleep in your bed, too. Or I’ll sleep on the sofa. It’s your bed after all.“

“I’ll be fine. You take the bed.“

“You’ll get a better rest if you sleep in your bed.“ 

“You slept on the sofa for two months, it can’t be that bad, surely.“

“I’ve been sleeping a lot better since I moved into your bed.“ As soon as he’s said it, Chris bites his tongue. Maybe that was too much. He’s broken the Don’t-talk-about-the-things-we-do-in-the-bedroom rule. But then a fond smile appears on Neil’s lips. 

“Me too,“ he says. Then he gets up to go to the bathroom and straight to the bedroom afterwards. By the time Chris comes out the bathroom, Neil is already asleep. Chris lies down next to him and rests his hand on Neil’s shoulder, he doesn’t know if Neil notices it or not, but he leaves it there. And when he’s on the edge to falling asleep, he feels Neil’s hand on his own, only for a brief moment, a quick touch that says _I know you’re there_ , before it disappears again. 

Three days later, when Neil is completely recovered, Chris has a cold.

________

The opportunities life throws at you are a strange thing. Sometimes it’s possible to engineer them, sometimes not. Sometimes an opportunity will pop up out of the blue and be so tempting, that you can’t do anything but take it. For Chris, one of these alluring opportunities presents itself halfway through March, when he enters the office and the secretary tells him to go and see his boss. With an uneasy feeling in the stomach, he knocks on the door and opens it after he’s heard a “Yes!“ from inside. 

“You wanted to see me?“

“Ah. Yes. Christopher.“ His boss, a tall man in his late forties, with broad shoulders and a deep, loud voice, smiles at him. He’s always been welcoming and helpful, but there’s an inherent authority to him, and Chris always feels intimidated when he’s around. 

“I’m really happy how this staircase has turned out,“ he says. “You’ve got a good eye.“

“Thank you, sir.“ 

“It’s back to university next, yeah?“

“I guess.“

“Well, I’ve got an offer for you. If you like, and if you can afford it, you could be part of our next project. Warehouses. I think it’d be good practice for you. Unfortunately, I would have to cut down your hours, to let’s say, three days a week. So you’d be some sort of assistant instead of an intern. You don’t have to decide straight away, I just wanted to let you know that this is a possibility. But if you want to go back to uni, I understand that.“ Chris stares at his boss and processes the new information. A job. Stay in London. Would he have to de-register at the university? Would Neil actually want him to stay in his flat even longer? Is it worth staying and delaying his course, only for the sake of being in London? And with less hours at the office, would he still be earning enough? 

“Christopher?“

“Oh, I, erm,“ Chris says. “Can I think about it until… maybe Friday?“

“Sure you can. Just let me know.“

For the rest of the day, Chris finds it hard to concentrate on his actual work, all he can think about is his boss’s offer. On the way back home, his little shoulder demons return. They usually show up on his commute or late at night, when Neil is already asleep. 

_Neil might not want you to stay_ , the little devil says. _You weren’t even supposed to live with him for more than a week._

Chris doesn't want to hear this. But does he know whether Neil actually wants him to stay? Maybe this whole thing between them doesn't even mean anything to him; they’ve never talked about it. Chris doesn't even know what it means himself. But he knows that he would like to find out - and that means he has to stay.

 _Don’t give a damn about what Neil thinks_ , the little devil continues. _You’re not in a relationship, are you. If you want to stay, stay. If you want to go, go. Don’t be dependent on this bespectacled smart-arse._

“Well, I’d like to think that it’s not only some stupid fling,“ Chris answers. He doesn't actually talk, of course - he's mouthing the words to himself, inaudibly for everyone else around him. It may be weird enough to have these little conversations with his inner demons, but he doesn't want anyone to think he was completely loopy. 

_You can still see him on the weekend_ , the little angel says. _If it’s not only some stupid fling, then it won’t make any difference. Think about your course, Chrissy. You can’t stay here. You’ll have a gap in your vita. You’ve started the course, you have to finish it._

“I know.“

 _Let him do whatever he wants_ , the devil snaps. _Who cares if he returns now or next year._

_It’s unreasonable to stay here!_

_YOU are unreasonable._

_Remember the disaster you got him into last time!_

_Well, at least he finally had sex, or do you call THAT a disaster? You’ve got your head in the clouds!_

“Shut up, you two,“ Chris says, gets up and off the train, and the two brawlers disappear.

________

When Chris comes home, Neil is already there. Chris feels nervous, his shoulder demons have loaded his mind up with things Neil could say, and he’s almost forgotten that he hasn't even told him yet.

“I gotta tell you something,“ Chris says. He stands in the middle of the living room and feels a bit out of place. 

“Oh? I gotta tell you something too.“ Neil turns around on his chair. 

“You first.“

“Your mum rang.“

“Oh God.“ Chris sighs. “Damn. Should have rang her. What did she want?“

“I don’t know, just making sure you’re still alive, I guess. I told her you’d ring back.“ 

“I will do.“

“So, what did you wanna tell me?“

“Oh. Yes. My boss talked to me today, and…and he said I could stay at the office for a bit longer. Work with them on another project. If I want to.“

“Oh, that’s great, isn’t it?“ Neil sounds a bit surprised, but not discouraging. 

“I think so. I have to decide if I do that, or if I, you know. Go back.“ 

“By the end of April, right? God, that’s…soon. I didn’t actually realise you’d be gone so soon,“ Neil says. 

“Yeah. I know.“

“I think I was always thinking it would always be in the distant future, you know. No matter how much time passed, it was always a long way ahead. I’d probably even think the same the day before you left. It would still be a long way ahead.“

“Yeah.“ Chris doesn’t really know what else to say. What he would like to say is _Do you want me to stay here? Would you visit me in Liverpool? Would you want me to visit you?_ But how is one supposed to say these things? 

“I tell you what,“ Neil says. “First, we go out for dinner. And _then_ we can talk about this.“

Chris smiles. “Sounds good to me.“

________

They are back in the bar in Islington. After dinner Chris suggested to go somewhere for a drink, mainly because he still didn't feel ready to address the topic, and Neil agreed. It’s a mild evening and they stand outside with their drinks. People around them chat, smoke and drink and all the different noises coming from all the bars and clubs mingle to a sound that makes the street vibrate. Chris feels light-headed and a lot happier than before. They’ve been chit-chatting about different things, watching people walking in and out the bar or past them, heading to their unknown destinations. It’s a game they play a lot: they pick a random person they see and imagine a story around them. They will come up with a name, a job, elaborate the person’s taste in music, their favourite animal, kinks, and of course where they are going and why.

“Look at Mildred over there,“ Neil would say, for example. “Heading downtown to meet her secret lover James. 25 years younger than her. James is not even his real name, but she doesn’t know. She’s just coming from work - she’s a nurse - and she’s stolen some drugs from the hospital. Valium, amongst others. James will later sell them down in Camden. Makes a pretty penny.“

“She’s dreaming about running away with James, I heard.“

“Oh yes. But he’s only after the money. She provides the drugs, he sleeps with her, but he also has another lover - Edward. Something else Mildred doesn’t know.“

“Nooooooo,“ Chris would say, acting shocked. 

“Yes. Would you believe it!“

“Scandalous!“ 

“He knows that she will never leave her husband. She has a house to look after, three kids, a poodle…“

Quite often, these conversations will go on for a long time and they’ll move from one person to the next one. Sometimes they overhear conversations between other people and imagine how they will continue. These are all things Chris doesn't want to leave behind - he’s never known anyone who could come up with ideas like Neil, someone who turns an ordinary situation into art, a story or lyrics. In general, he’s never known anyone like Neil. 

“So how are you going to write a song to be played at Heaven when you’re in Liverpool?“ Neil asks after not having said anything for a while, coming now straight to the point. 

“I won’t.“ Chris sighs. He was hoping he could avoid the topic for a bit longer. “My mum always wanted me to be a professional musician, you know, she’s never been happy about me doing architecture. I don’t think I wanna be famous, though. I’d like my songs to be played in clubs and all, but without people knowing it’s me. Or write stuff for others.“ 

“Why don’t you do that then?“

“And for whom?“

Neil smiles. “Well, for a start, write something for me.“

“For you.“

“Yes! Write me an opus, an aria, a chanson… a _minnesong_.“ 

“A what?“

“Never mind. Chris, I believe that you would succeed as a musician, as well as an architect. Or as something totally different. It’s all up to you.“ 

Chris looks at his drink, which is now empty. Neil takes the bottle out of his hands and goes inside to get rid of it. Chris doesn’t know whether to follow him back inside or not, but then Neil’s already come back out. 

“Let’s go for a walk,“ he says. 

“ _Now_?“

“Of course now. I wanna show you something.“

A quick ride on the tube takes them to Camden Lock. Neil walks fast and Chris has trouble keeping up with him. He is surprised how empty the streets are. People are either at home or in a bar - it’s not late enough for all the nighthawks to swarm home, but too late for people to be on their way to their destinations for the night. A twilight zone, a time for the streets of London to take a breath. 

“Where’re we going?“ Chris asks. He keeps looking around, expecting sinister figures behind every corner. But they are alone. 

“You’ll see,“ Neil replies, then remains silent for the most part. They head down Princess Road, close to Regent’s Canal, and then turn to Prince Albert Road. Regent’s Park flashes before them, but it doesn’t seem to be where Neil’s heading. They follow a path into a park on the other side of the road. Chris knows that the zoo is nearby and for a moment he wonders what all the animals are doing at night. Are they sleeping? Or are they doing all the things they don’t do during the day, under the beady eyes of the visitors? 

Neil leads them to a big open field, sprinkled with some trees, and a hill in the middle. The sounds of the city have quieted, leaving only silence, a mild breeze and the stars and the moon above them. They walk up the hill, where they find a few benches. They are alone. Neil stops and turns to Chris.

“We’re here,“ he says. “That’s it. Welcome to Primrose Hill.“

What Chris sees takes his breath away. There is the city centre, and it’s close, but it seems far away. Chris is amazed that this little green island can exist in the middle of London, and he’s never known it was there. He can see the skyline and he recognises some of the buildings. They’re illuminated and add a mysterious glow to the dark blue of the night sky. All the insecurities, the stress, that’s all over there, while he and Neil are in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by peaceful silence.

“That’s beautiful,“ he whispers. He doesn’t want to disturb the quiet with his voice. 

“I thought you might’ve not been here before,“ Neil answers. “It’s not really a secret spot, gets rather crowded on a nice day, but usually people don’t come here at night.“

“Usually.“

“Well, there are always some daring wanderers who do.“ 

Chris smiles and takes a deep breath. The air is fresh and cool. “Why’ve you taken me here?“

“I thought you might need to look at things from a distant point of view.“ Neil points over to the skyscrapers peeping up behind the trees. “Sometimes actual distance helps.“

Chris looks at the skyline, then at Neil, who has put on a pensive face. He doesn’t return the look. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his coat, which he has started wearing again after his cold. Chris can feel all the thoughts in his mind shifting and turning, and there is one sticking out. He’s not quite sure if it’s the little devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear or not, but standing there, in the middle of the night, on a hill in London, he suddenly feels very alive and sure about where he wants to be.

“I don’t wanna go,“ Chris says. 

“Sounds like you’ve made your decision.“

Chris inhales the cool night air. “At the moment I feel like going back would be…I dunno. It’s not the right time to go back. Y’know.“ 

“I know.“ 

They look at each other and Neil’s lips form a coy smile. Chris wonders whether it would be alright to kiss Neil. A kiss would be reassuring. In fact, it would completely rule out the option to return to Liverpool. Nobody is watching them. This place is almost as private as the bedroom, and even if someone saw them, would they actually care? He’s been thinking about this a lot recently. Most people wouldn’t, he guesses. Yet, when they’re outside, Neil will surround himself with an unapproachable, cool aura, that keeps a distance between them. But now, on this hill, in the dark, Neil doesn’t need his protective wall, and Chris decides to make a move. 

“Neil…,“ Chris says and he waits until Neil turns and their gazes meet. Neil’s eyes appear melancholic behind his glasses. As Chris reaches out and puts a hand on Neil’s wrist, he feels his heart beating fast. “We’re alone. No-one’s here.“

Neil’s smiles, but the melancholy in his eyes remains. He doesn't smile with his whole face. He does pull his hand out of his pocket, though, takes Chris’s hand and holds it. His hand is warm and Chris’s wish to kiss Neil becomes stronger. He puts his other hand on Neil’s waist and Neil doesn’t shy away, but he’s not really responding to the touch, either. 

“Please,“ Chris whispers. He can see both affection and reticence in Neil’s eyes when he lifts his head up to lay a tender kiss on Neil’s lips. They remain with their foreheads leaned against each other. It takes a few seconds until Neil finally returns the kiss and Chris pulls him closer. It’s a fond kiss, but something seems to be on Neil’s mind that keeps him from letting the kiss become really passionate, and it makes them slow down again. Neil steps back. 

“Are you getting cold?“ 

Chris shakes his head. “No.“

“You wanna go home?“

“Yeah. Let’s go.“ Chris is still holding Neil’s hand and he’s holding it all the way back to Prince Albert Road, where Neil withdraws it and hides it in his pocket again. But it’s been long enough to get an idea of how it feels like to walk hand in hand, as if they were a couple, something so normal and mundane. He wonders if they’ll ever do this again. 

Their sex is slow and passionate that night. Whatever has been holding Neil back earlier, it stays outside and doesn’t enter the flat with them. They spend a long time kissing and holding each other, before they get undressed, making up for the kisses they couldn’t share on the hill. When they lie down together, Neil seems determined to not leave a single inch of Chris’s body untouched and unkissed, and everything he does is incredibly gentle and fond, as if Chris was a precious and fragile piece of china. 

“Do you actually want me to stay here?“ Chris asks at some point. 

Neil seems surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?“

Chris shrugs his shoulders. 

“Chris…“ Neil bends down to him to kiss him again. “Stop thinking.“

Chris nods and he wraps his arms around Neil to pull him closer. It’s not the right moment to question what Neil wants or doesn’t want, and he stops talking. Shortly after, when Neil goes down on him, he eventually stops thinking as well.


	9. 9.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Neil plan their career, Chris makes a phone call and asks Neil a very important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! It's been a while - and now it's not even Sunday. But work happened, holiday happened and basically life happened, plus I'm having some issues with this project. But anyway! Lights! Models! Guest List! (I'm just doing my best, darlings.)
> 
>  _The little devil enters._  
>  Devil: When shall we three meet again? In lightning, thunder, or in-  
>  _The angel enters._  
>  Angel: What are you doing?  
> D: Practicing my lines?  
> A: This is not Shakespeare. This is _Rent_.  
> D: Leave me alone. I'm getting in the right mood. One day, I'll star in a proper play. Now let me get ready for my next scene. ( _clears his throat_ ) To be or...  
> A: We're not even in this chapter.  
> D ( _with a sigh_ ): What have I done to deserve this...

On Monday, Chris phones the university in Liverpool to ask whether he would have to de-register if he doesn't return in May. 

“Nah,“ says the girl at the other end, clearly a student herself. “What’ye doin’?“

“I’ve been asked if I wanted to do some more work in the office where I do my internship,“ Chris says. 

“If ye gonna pay yer fee, no probs.“ It takes Chris a moment to realise that she means no problem. He’ll probably have to find a second job to have enough money to pay the university fee, but it sounds as if it wasn't an issue to stay. And that’s what he wants, isn’t it. At least for now. After the next term he will have to decide again if he wants to return and finish the course, but who knows what will happen until then.

When he hangs up the phone, he takes a deep breath. The clock tells him that Neil should be home shortly, too. He wonders if there is a chance to find out where their relationship is heading, within the next five or six months. However mind-blowing the sex is, he doesn’t quite understand how someone can go from being a devoted lover at night to a rather standoffish individual during the days, who cuts off every conversation that might pick up the topic. Not in a rude way, mind you. But Neil is highly skilled with words and he knows how to lead a conversation in his desired direction, or away from anything he doesn't want to talk about. And since Chris has moved in, he has come to realise that Neil doesn't like to talk about his feelings. With his lyrics, he exorcises them out of his head and bans them on paper. And that’s where he keeps them. 

What Neil does like to talk about, on the other hand, are those situations which make him feel offended or peeved. If that happens, he likes to complain about whatever has upset him. On this particular day, it’s been people on the tube, and as soon as he’s come in, he begins to complain about them. 

“You might like to think that people have some common sense,“ he says. “But apparently they all think the world will stop turning if they won’t be the first ones to get on and off a train. I almost got run over by a woman with a push-chair, can you believe it. I need a cup of tea.“

“We don’t have tea,“ Chris answers. 

“No tea?“ Neil sounds as if it was the biggest crisis of the century. 

“And no milk.“

“Oh God almighty.“ Neil sighs. “What do we have?“

“Not a lot.“

“Oh well. Anyway. How was your day?“

Chris smiles. “I talked to the university earlier, they say as long as I pay the fee for the term, I can do whatever I want. So I can stay for now and I can still finish the course, at some point.“

Neil turns to him and his face lightens up. “Hey, that’s great!“

“So all we have to do now is write a hit record.“ 

“Sure! Let’s do it!“ 

“Yeah. Let’s make lots of money, so I can still pay the fee.“

“ _Let’s make lots of money_ , the first single by, uhmmm. What’s our name?“

“Oh, I dunno. Do we need a name?“

“I guess so. Something catchy.“ 

“Isn’t _Tennant and Lowe_ catchy enough? You know, as in _Hall and Oates_?“

“Lacks a bit of creativity, doesn’t it?“

“Well, we can come back to that. Also, Let’s make lots of money is awfully long for a title.“ 

“You think so? I like the sound of it.“

Chris can’t help but smile, and suddenly he’s absolutely sure he’s doing the right thing. Even though it is totally unlikely that they will write a hit record, it feels good to talk about it and pretend it could be real. 

“ _Let’s make lots of money_ , brought to you on 12“ of the finest vinyl, the first single by _The Boys from the King’s Road_ , now available in your local record stores,“ Neil continues, chuckling. 

Chris snorts. “ _The Boys from the King’s Road_.“

“What? I’m improvising. I like this Boys thing. Like the Beach Boys, the Beastie Boys, the Dead Boys…Even Boy George. But I don’t like him.“

“I’m not gonna be part of a band called _The Boys from the King’s Road_ ,“ Chris says, still laughing, and now it’s spread over to Neil and they’re both giggling like children. 

“OK, OK. Fine. We’ll write our song first and then we pick a name. We’ll start right after I’ve had a cuppa tea, so before we become famous, I’ll go shopping. Wanna come?“

“Sure.“ Chris picks up his coat and the moment before Neil opens the door, he grasps Neil’s arm. After the light-heartedness of their conversation he feels that he needs at least a little bit of physical contact. Neil turns around to him.

“Is it really OK if I stay here? With you?“ Chris asks. “Because I could still try and find another place to live, or something.“

“Chris.“ Neil smiles and puts his hands on Chris’s waist. It’s the first time he touches him outside the bedroom, apart from the awkward kiss on Primrose Hill. Chris feels a shiver going through him. “I didn’t expect this, but… I quite enjoy your company. So yes. It really is OK.“ 

Chris doesn’t say anything, but hearing from Neil that he wants him to stay fills him up with excitement and warmth. Up until now, he’s simply put up with the fact that physical contact was limited, but now he can’t hold himself back. He pulls Neil in and kisses him and he’s more than a bit surprised when Neil kisses him back. And the realisation of how good it feels to kiss Neil in a situation like that, a situation that won’t lead to sex, is even more overwhelming. A simple moment of affection they share, but yet so reassuring. 

Neil smiles against his lips. “Didn’t expect this, either.“ 

“Let’s go before the shops close,“ Chris whispers and Neil nods, then he kisses him again. It takes them at least another two minutes until they let go of each other. _Maybe we both needed this_ , Chris thinks.

________

They go to the nearest Tesco. In the shop Chris can’t help but wonder what people think about them. He knows that they do make a bit of an odd pair - Neil in his immaculately ironed shirt and tie and a good pair of trousers, himself in a pair of jeans he’s had for years, a plain grey t-shirt and a leather jacket from a second-hand shop. He hasn’t cut his hair in a while, either, while Neil goes to the hairdresser almost every month. Would people suggest they could be a couple, because they buy their groceries together?

“So, we have milk…butter…Ah, tea bags.“ Neil takes a package out the shelf. “What else?“

“How about some biscuits?“

“I’m watching my figure,“ Neil answers, followed by his typical indignant tongue click. “But go ahead.“ 

Chris rolls his eyes. He would like to tell Neil that he has absolutely nothing to worry about, but he doesn’t. He’s done it before and he knows that Neil will not listen to him. When it comes to his weight, Neil is a bit overly wary. 

“What do you want to eat for dinner?“ Neil asks.

“Maybe…erm. We haven’t eaten at home in a while, have we?“

“No. That’s why the fridge is empty.“

They walk around aimlessly for a while, from aisle to aisle, searching for inspiration. Chris spends more time observing Neil though, than paying attention to the items in the shelves. He notices so many things now he’s never noticed, and he wonders if Neil has actually done them before. Before. When was _before_ , anyway? Before their first kiss? Or before Chris slept in Neil’s bed for the first time? Or is _before_ even longer ago than that?

Neil picks an apple out of a basket, eyes it, his eyebrows twitch a little. Then he puts it back, picks another one. For some reason, Chris is totally charmed by the way Neil can’t just pick a random apple. Even when it comes to buying groceries, it has to be the very right apple and he won’t be content with one that doesn't 100% please his eyes. 

“How about Cottage Pie,“ Chris suggests, looking at some potatoes. “My mum always makes that. It’s easy.“

“Yeah, OK. What do you need?“ 

“Potatoes, minced meat…“ Chris stops, realising that he has no idea. “Y’know, forget that one.“

“I can make a stir-fry.“

Chris pulls a face. “No Brussel’s sprouts again, please.“

“We have to agree on something, we can’t go out every day!“

“Baked potatoes. That’s easy. Let’s do baked potatoes.“

“Great. Simple but delicious.“ 

“With beans. And grated cheese.“

“I actually thought about something more…nutritious. Maybe broccoli. Watercress. Sprouts. You don’t have to eat them.“

“Fine. I’ll have some of the broccoli. And beans. And cheese.“

Neil frowns, but he doesn’t object to it and they collect the things they need, pay and leave. Chris is smiling most of the time on the way home. Maybe this comes close to the feeling of being a couple, he wonders. Doing boring everyday stuff together, only that it’s not boring anymore, because you’re together. Because it’s something you do for two of you. Like planning dinner. It’s only a glimpse of this life, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in the thought. 

Back home they put the items away and when Neil finishes unpacking the bag he’s been carrying, he asks Chris to hand him the potatoes.

“I thought you had them,“ Chris replies. 

“I gave them to you, didn't I?“

“Nope.“

They look at each other. 

“Erm…have we…“

“Yeah.“

“So are we going to…“

“Yeah. If you could put the rest of the things away, I’ll go and book a table.“ There’s irony in Neil’s voice and a bit of relinquishment. He leaves the room with a sigh and Chris puts the other items away. He’s pretty sure that Neil was the last one who had the potatoes. But he would never admit that. 

“We got a table at 7,“ Neil says when he comes back. “And before we go, you should ring your mum.“

“Oh God, I forgot about that,“ Chris mumbles. But Neil is right, so he goes to the living room, picks up the receiver and dials the number. 

“Hello?“

“Hi Mum. It’s me.“

“Chrissy, dear,“ his mother says. “How are you? You haven’t rung me in ages!“

Chris clears his throat. “I’m fine. Sorry. I was busy.“

“No worries, honey. Are you coming back in April, then? That’s why I rang the other day. Mr. Tennant told me you were out. He was ever so nice on the phone. Well, I guess we have to arrange to come pick you up, with all your things, haven’t we?“

“Well, yeah, ‘bout that.“ Chris bites his tongue and glimpses over to Neil, who is listening to the conversation. “Look, Mum, I… I’ve been thinking about staying for a bit longer. My boss wants me to stay in the office for another project.“

“Longer? In London?“ Mrs. Lowe doesn’t sound impressed. 

“Yeah. I quite like the work at the office, and I think I would actually benefit from staying here.“ He waits for a reaction. 

“Oh.“ 

“What, oh?“

“Nothing. So you don’t want to finish the course?“

“Yes, I do wanna finish it.“

“Mhmh.“

Chris rolls his eyes. “Look, Mother, I _will_ finish it. But for now, I think staying at the office makes more sense.“ He can see Neil nodding approvingly from the corner of his eye. 

“OK,“ Mrs. Lowe says. “Well, I would appreciate it if you could keep me up to date with your decisions.“

“Sure. I’ll do that.“

“Maybe you could ring me at least every other week, couldn’t you, Chrissy?“

“Yes. Sure.“

A pause.

“You’ll be staying with Mr. Tennant then further on, I take it?“

“Oh, yeah, I will.“ 

“Good, good. Is he around?“

“Yeah…?“

“Let me talk to him.“ 

Chris sighs, then he waves Neil to get up. “She wants to speak to you, Mr. Tennant.“

Neil is a bit surprised, but he gets up and takes the receiver out of Chris’s hands. “Sure, Chrissy,“ he chirps and before Chris can complain, he’s put the receiver to his ear. “Hi, Mrs. Lowe. How are you?“ 

Chris sits down on the sofa. Why does his mother want to speak to Neil again? Neil nods a few times and makes a lot of “Mhmh, mhmh.“ He keeps peeking over to Chris with a cheeky smile on his face. “No, absolutely not,“ he says then. “No. Yes, very good, really.“ He pauses and listens. “Not as far as I know, no,“ he says. “But I’ll ask him. Yes. And you too, thank you. Bye, Mrs. Lowe. Bye.“ He hangs up the phone.

“What did she say?“ Chris asks. 

“Well, basically she wants to know how you’re doing. What you’re up to. If you’re still into the architecture thing. If you have a girlfriend.“

Chris feels like he’s got punched right in the stomach. And why can’t his mother ask himself, if she wants to know all these things? “Oh my God.“ 

Neil studies Chris’s face and he suddenly looks serious. And there also are curiosity, sympathy, understanding and a hint of concern when he asks: “Does she know?“

“What?“

“That you might not bring a girl home one day.“

Now Chris understands, but he doesn’t answer. He has never talked to anyone about this topic, not even Neil, because it wasn’t necessary. And how can you talk about something you haven’t even figured out for yourself? He looks away. 

“Of course she doesn’t know,“ he says. 

Neil sits down next to Chris on the sofa and they remain quiet for a while. There are a lot of things they could say, and they both know that. In the end, neither of them says anything. There are a few inches between them and it feels like this distance is needed right now. The light-heartedness from their little shopping trip has vanished. 

“And your parents?“ Chris asks after a while. 

Neil sneers. “Chris. I’m Catholic.“ And that’s all he says. He gets up. “I’ll just get changed quickly before we go.“ And the topic is off the table. They go out for dinner, to a restaurant in the neighbourhood where they’ve been before and where the food is good, but not overly fancy. Their conversation in the restaurant remains superficial. When they come back home, Neil doesn’t even wait for Chris to take his shoes and coat off, he grabs him by the shoulders and locks his mouth with a kiss, leaving no room for any more conversations which could lead back to topics they don't want to talk about.

________

A question has been sitting on the tip of Chris’s tongue and he’s not been brave enough to ask yet. But now, with the prospect of spending at least another six months in London and after two glasses of wine at the restaurant, he feels confident. Boisterous, even. It’s time to ask. After their vigorous kiss in the hallway, it didn’t take them long to find their way into the bedroom and get rid of their clothes. They lie next to each other and Chris pulls himself away from Neil’s lips.

“I gotta ask ye something.“ He nestles his head into the crook of Neil’s neck. 

“Mhh…“ Neil sighs. “What is it?“

“You had sex with men before…didn’t you.“ His lips brush over Neil’s skin while he speaks. 

“Do you really want to talk about me having sex with others right now?“ 

“No, what I mean is…“ Chris blushes. “You had…real sex. Not only what we do. Right?“

“ _Real_ sex.“ Neil chuckles. “What do you think we’ve been doing?“

Chris feels himself blushing even more. “But you’ve never…Or I’ve never…“

Neil smirks at him, then he leans in and begins to kiss Chris’s neck. “I haven’t been inside you,“ he whispers into Chris’s ear. And Chris feels the words in his entire body. 

“Yeah. That.“ He can hardly speak. Hearing Neil verbalise it, in such a blunt language, in addition to his lips on his neck, has made the hair on his body stand on end. And it’s also made him extremely hard. 

“Why're you asking?“ Neil’s hands are wandering up and down Chris’s hips. Chris is pretty sure that Neil knows why he’s asking. And Chris can’t even deny that it’s turning him on - Neil brings a side of him to the surface he hasn't known before. Often he pushes him to say and do things he didn't know he was capable of or wouldn’t normally do. In the bedroom as well as on the keyboard. And more recently, Chris has often thought about this one thing they have not done yet. 

“Oh, I…I may have thought about it.“ It’s the understatement of the year, and Chris knows it. He’d like to express somehow that he’s tried to imagine the feeling of Neil inside him every time Neil’s been sucking him off recently, and how hard he’s got off many times with this very picture on his mind. Neil inside him. The absolute highest level of intimacy. But he can’t find the words. 

“Have you.“ Neil smiles. “What have you been thinking?“

“Yeah. I, erm…I think I wanna try it.“ He hides his face again between Neil’s neck and shoulder. It’s easier to talk when he can’t look at Neil’s face. “I wanna feel you.“

“You’re not saying that because you want to impress me, are you?“ 

“No!“ Chris looks up. 

“You’re blushing,“ Neil notes. His hands travel further down, over Chris’s hip bones and over his butt cheeks. Chris shivers under the touch. “Don’t ever think you need to impress me, Chris.“

“I’m not, I…“ He takes a deep breath. “I mean, what we do is great, it’s really bloody great, but…“ Neil interrupts him by putting a finger on his lips. 

“If you wanna do it…I’m more than happy to.“

Chris feels like he’s drowning in Neil’s eyes. He nods. A quick smile flashes up on Neil’s face. He sits up next to Chris and watches him for a moment, then he leans in for a kiss and as soon as their lips touch, Chris wraps his arms around Neil’s neck and pulls him closer, hungrily kissing him back. 

“I’m glad you asked,“ Neil whispers. One of his hands is circling around Chris’s erection. “I’ve been thinking about it, too, y’know.“

He leans over to the bedside table, opens the drawer and takes something out. “OK,“ he says. “If you don't like it, or if you feel uncomfortable, tell me. It’s fine. Don’t be ashamed.“ He breathes a kiss on Chris’s cheek. “And relax. I don’t wanna hurt you.“ 

Chris nods again. It’s more complicated than he thought, by the looks of it. Neil’s still drawing circles with his right hand, over his thighs and around his crotch, and he slips his left hand and arm under Chris’s neck, holding him up and close to himself. For a long, long time, Neil kisses and strokes him, and he’s slowly sending Chris into delirium. Chris is so far gone, he doesn't even really notice when Neil stops to unscrew the little tube he’s taken out of the drawer. Only when he hears the sound of plastic crackling, he opens his eyes. Neil smiles at him when he notices that Chris is watching. 

“I haven’t found a romantic way to do this, yet,“ he says. “But this stuff is vital.“

Chris returns the smile. Neil leans down to him and kisses him again. His fingers dance over the insides of Chris’s thighs, gently pushing his legs apart. Chris doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He shuts his eyes and indulges in the feeling of Neil’s hand on his legs, his lips on his neck. To occupy at least one of his hands, he clumsily begins to stroke Neil’s shoulder. Neil still hasn’t done anything, he takes his time and he seems to be writing a novel on Chris’s thighs with his fingertips. Eventually, the hand disappears, and Neil’s lips return to him, kissing him softly, but with passion. 

“God, you’re so sexy,“ Neil whispers. His voice is full of relish. 

It strikes Chris with surprise to hear these words and the longing tone of Neil’s voice makes his heart beat faster. He opens his eyes and they look at each other, and in the same moment Neil slips his fingers between Chris’s legs and Chris cries out, surprised by the new, sudden sensation. It feels a bit strange at first, but due to the generous amount of lube and the condom Neil has pulled over his fingers, it doesn’t actually hurt. 

“OK?“ Chris hears Neil’s voice somewhere in the distance and he forces himself to nod. It’s OK. It’s more than OK. 

Neil kisses him again and moves his fingers. Chris claws his own fingers into Neil’s arm. His moans become louder as he feels Neil’s fingers deeper inside him. He doesn’t really know if it’s one finger or two, but who cares. It’s enough to take his breath away and probably make him forget his own name soon. 

“Oh…my God…“ Chris hears himself uttering these words, but he hasn't planned to do that. His body has taken over and he is pushing himself against Neil, desperately trying to get even closer to him. Every last millimetre of space between them is too much. When he opens his eyes, he sees Neil, who gazes at him with glassy eyes. And he can see Neil’s hand between his legs, which is, for some reason, a massive turn-on. The other thing he can see is that Neil is hard. Very hard. And for a moment he just looks, and the sight does something to him; it makes him want more. It makes him want to feel this part of Neil inside him, too. 

Neil notices his gaze. While he’s still slowly moving his fingers inside Chris, he touches his face with the other hand and the fondness of the touch overwhelms Chris. He didn't know a simple touch could be a hundred times more intimate than what he considered real sex. 

“Alright?“ Neil asks. 

“Yeah,“ is all Chris can say. His hands are aimlessly roaming over Neil’s back. 

“Next time we’ll go _all the way_ ,“ Neil breathes into his ear. “Trust me. I want this to be good for you.“ He’s kissing Chris’s neck and ear again while he speaks and he’s moving his fingers more rhythmically now. And faster. And Chris doesn't even question Neil’s decision to not go _all the way_ this time anymore - what Neil does to him right now has already reduced him to his purest, most hedonistic and animalistic essence. And with every second passing, his desire grows.

Chris has become so worked up that each time Neil comes close to his erection, he believes he’ll come. It becomes so unbearable that he unconsciously reaches down with one hand to offer himself some relief, but when he realises what he’s doing, he quickly opens his eyes and pulls his hand back. But Neil doesn’t seem to mind his solo turn at all. 

“Go ahead,“ he says with a grin. He puts his free hand back under Chris’s neck and holds him close, then he thrusts into him again with the other hand. And it’s enough to make Chris forget about the shame he felt half a minute ago, it doesn't matter anymore, he can’t resist any longer. He shuts his eyes and moans deeply when he begins to touch himself. As he’s doing it himself, he can delay his orgasm and make the whole act last a lot longer. And it seems to turn Neil on just as much - Chris hears him moaning quietly, but he is completely devoted to Chris right now, regardless of his own needs. And he does it so tenderly, so perfectly, the way he’s inside him, the way he’s _fucking_ him…

“Neil-!“ Chris buries the fingernails of his free hand in Neil’s arm and clenches his teeth while he comes. His whole body is shaken by several orgasmic waves and when it’s all over, his legs feel like jelly. Neil carefully removes his fingers and pulls the condom off of them. Then he lies down next to Chris.

“Wooooow….“ Chris chuckles and covers his eyes with his hand for a moment. The way he feels comes close to the feeling of being drunk. 

“I take that as a compliment,“ Neil says. “Mind you, you’ve turned me on quite a bit with your little performance.“

“Is that so.“ Chris turns to his side and props his head up on his hand. He’s still out of breath. “I figure it’s my turn to watch you now, then.“ Suddenly, with his brain still on stand-by, it’s even easier to talk about these things and express what he wants. 

For a moment, Neil appears surprised by Chris’s command, but then his smile returns. He leans forward and breathes a kiss on Chris’s lips.

“Fair enough.“ Neil lies on his back and when he briefly touches his hard cock, he winces, but then the smile on his face becomes mischievous. “Chris…what I just did to you…you wanna try it on me, too?“ 

Chris stares at Neil. That’s not what he had in mind when he suggested to watch Neil getting himself off. But he’s curious. And if that means he can make Neil feel what he felt, he wants to do it, he wants to make him feel just as good. So far, he’s managed to get Neil off with his hands and also with his mouth a couple of times, but he wants to learn more. 

“OK.“

Neil’s smile evolves to a grin. “Alright.“ He reaches over the bedside table and hands Chris a condom and the little tube. “Are you ready for your first lesson on how to _make luurve_ to a man?“

Chris chuckles. “Share your wisdom with me.“

“Put this over your fingers. It’s mainly for hygienic reasons, but it will also make your fingers more smooth. And then rule number 1: You can’t really use too much of this stuff.“ He holds the little tube up. “Or it will be really unpleasant.“

“Yeah, I bet.“ Chris feels his cheeks getting hot again. Neil doesn't seem to have any problem to talk about these things, but for Chris it’s all new. Having sex is one thing, talking about having sex is a lot more difficult. Even to the person you’re having sex with - or maybe especially to that person. 

Neil puts an arm around Chris’s neck, pulls him down to him and they kiss for what feels like an eternity. Instinctively, Chris reaches out to put his hand on Neil’s cock, but Neil holds his hand back. 

“No, no, wait,“ he says with a soft voice. “Look.“ He takes Chris’s hands and lets his fingertips slide over Chris’s ring and middle finger. “I prefer these. But you can also…“ Now Neil leads Chris’s hand up to his mouth and breathes a kiss on his index finger. “You can also use these two,“ he finishes the sentence, before he puts his index and middle finger into his mouth. Chris gasps when Neil licks over his fingers. Their eyes are still locked. “Your index finger gives you more dexterity.“ Neil winks. “But you have to see what works best for you.“

Chris, fascinated to hear about the science behind it all, opens the condom with trembling hands and puts the little piece of rubber over the middle and index finger of his right hand. He feels nervous, but he’s also full of anticipation. He wants this to be as good for Neil as it was for him. 

“Now the lube.“ 

Chris nods, then he unscrews the tube and adds some of the transparent substance on his hand. 

“More.“

Chris does as he’s told, until his fingers are almost completely covered. Neil watches him. 

“Come here,“ Neil whispers once Chris is done and puts his arms around him to kiss him again. The kiss is urging and fierce. 

“You start slowly,“ Neil says. His voice is unsteady. “Gently.“ They share a look and Chris tentatively puts his hand on Neil’s thigh. He can see the excitement in Neil’s eyes. Chris’s hand wanders down Neil’s leg but when he reaches his cheeks, he hesitates. 

“Cross your fingers,“ Neil says. Then he puts his own hand on Chris’s wrist, slowly guiding him in the right direction. “C’mon. Fuck me.“ The last two words are not more than a breathless whisper but they spur something in Chris. With Neil’s guidance, his fingers find their way and when he enters Neil finally, the feeling overwhelms him almost as much as the feeling of Neil’s fingers inside him. Neil groans loudly and puts his hand around his own cock. And it’s somehow the hottest thing Chris has ever seen in his life. 

“Oh God, Chris,“ Neil mutters between his moans. Chris watches his face. Neil’s shut his eyes and opened his mouth, and he’s moaning loudly. Chris tries to concentrate on what he’s doing with his fingers, but he’s too mesmerised by the sight of Neil wanking himself. He gets so distracted by it that he forgets to do anything, but the way Neil uses his thumb on the head of his own dick is almost enough to make Chris hard again, too. 

“Move your hand,“ Neil gasps. He seems absent. Chris moves his fingers backwards and forwards, hoping that it comes close to what Neil has done to him earlier.

“Faster…“ Neil’s voice has gained a begging undertone.

Chris looks back at Neil’s hand and tries to adjust to his rhythm. It’s like music. Their movements are coordinated. 

It doesn't last long. With his free hand, Neil grabs Chris’s wrist again, pushing himself against his hand. When he comes, he lets out a cry so filled with lust and pleasure that it makes Chris shiver. He’s not completely sure what vocal range Neil’s voice has, but this sounds like a soprano. When he’s done, Neil sinks into his pillow and it takes him a while to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Chris pulls his hand back as slowly and carefully as possible, and takes the condom off. He feels as if he’s finished an important exam. 

“Oh my,“ Neil murmurs. “Oh my.“

“It was OK then, I take it?“

Neil turns his head towards Chris. “You pass with distinction,“ he says. He sounds very sleepy now, just like Chris feels. They get up again though and go to the bathroom to have a quick wash, as Neil insists on it. Back in bed, Chris lies down next to Neil and lays his hand on his chest. Neil puts his own hand on Chris’s. 

“That was quite amazing, earlier,“ he says. 

Chris is half asleep already. “You’re amazing, too,“ he mumbles. The words just slip out of his mouth. He’s not even sure if Neil hears them, but he feels him lightly squeezing his hand before he drifts into a deep sleep.


	10. 10.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil does something surprising on the tube and Chris has an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Task 1: Summarise the content briefly in your own words. Note keywords.  
> Task 2: Discuss the conflict you can see emerging between the main characters. Give examples from the text to underline your statements.  
> Task 3: Choose ONE of the following tasks:  
> a) Why are the characters smiling at each other in the last line? How do they feel about the situation? What could be their fears and hopes?  
> b) Why do you think did Neil change his opinion? Create a diary entry from his point of view the day before they leave. How does he feel like? What made him buy the ticket?
> 
> p.s. I'm so sorry. Is it obvious that I can't separate my work from my private life anymore? Anyway, please make sure you finish all the tasks, let me know if you need any help. You have 90 minutes (ish). GOOD LUCK! (OK, I MAY be taking my job too seriously.)
> 
> p.p.s. No, it won't help your oral participation grade if you know most PSB lyrics by heart. 
> 
> p.p.p.s. YES, it may help if you can rap.

Whenever a new restaurant opens in the neighbourhood, Neil will know about it. Chris doesn't really understand how he’s always so informed, but he seems to have a restaurant radar and every time he hears about something, a new venue, a new chef in a restaurant they’ve already been to, it’s a done deal and they will go. Some of the restaurants are more casual than others, sometimes they are so posh that Chris feels like he doesn't belong there. And more recently, he’s been thinking about something else whenever they go out - when the waiter lights a candle, when there is a single rose sitting in a vase on their table, when all the other guests around them quite clearly are couples having a romantic dinner, he wonders if they stick out. Are the other guests talking about them? Looking at them? He’s never noticed anything. And the waiters are way too professional, they would rather swallow a broomstick than dare to look scornfully at their customers. In theory, Chris can't see any difference between him and Neil and the other couples around them. The only difference is that neither of them is a woman. Apart from that they could just as well be on a date, too. Usually they share the bill, they raise their glasses when they drink and even the way they talk to each other is the same, compared to the other couples; eyes locked, coy smiles, the odd laugh about some inside joke or an innuendo about what may happen later in the privacy of the bedroom. But then, they’ve already been out together for dinner many times before they started sleeping together. Does this new component turn their dinner outings automatically into dates?

It has become a bit of a habit for Chris to watch other couples (straight couples, to be precise - he’s not spotted a gay couple yet) to see what they do, how they interact and compare them to Neil and himself. Find similarities and differences and determine what is typical for a date. Quite often, he also gives those people names, imagines how their house looks like, what they argue about the most or what their kinks are. A bit like an advanced version of the “make up stories about people around us“-game he plays with Neil. One evening, he’s laid his eyes on a table with four people, two couples, and he can’t stop watching them. He observes them ordering their food, eating and chatting, eased up by the two glasses of wine each of them has had. There are two men and two women (he calls the men Jerry and Gerald and the women Mary and Martha, and they live in Greenwich), and everything they do is couple-y. Chris sees them sharing their food and taking bites off of each others’ forks, he sees that one of the women, Mary, constantly touches her boyfriend’s (or husband’s, who knows) knee under the table, while the other couple, Martha and Jerry, holds hands. They laugh a lot and every now and then they smile at each other and kiss. Quick but reassuring and affectionate kisses, some on the cheek, some on the lips. 

“Chris? Hello?“

Chris blinks. He hasn’t even heard what Neil said to him. “Sorry, what?“

“I said, would you like another drink?“

“Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry.“ 

Neil raises a hand and when the waiter comes, he asks for two glasses of wine. Then Neil glimpses over to the table with the two couples. Jerry has put his arm around Martha. _She’s mine_ , his gesture says. _And I’m proud of her. I want the whole world to know she belongs to me._

“Pretty fascinating, huh?“ Neil’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve been staring at them ever since we got here.“

“Have I?“

“Yes. You seem to be completely spellbound.“ The way Neil says it sounds casually first, but there is a mocking undertone.

“If you say so.“ Chris can play the same game. 

The waiter comes and brings their drinks and Neil takes a big sip from his glass. Chris looks at his own drink and he doesn’t actually want it. He feels like drinking is not a good idea now. Something doesn't feel right. He moves his finger over the rim of the glass. 

“They’re taking it a bit to an extreme,“ Neil comments. 

“They seem cheery enough.“ Now Chris sips his wine. He still doesn’t want it, but it’s there and it occupies his hands for a moment. And somehow he hopes that the gesture of him drinking underlines his nonchalant attitude. 

“The honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever, you know. Give them six month, maybe a year. And what comes after that? It all becomes routine. Repetition. Boredom.“

“Well, thank God everybody can choose their own path in life, can’t they.“ Chris doesn’t want to go deeper into this. He’s seen this side of Neil before and he doesn’t really know how to deal with it. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes, for some reason, Neil gets awfully sniffy and it makes it exceedingly difficult to talk to him. Chris struggles with this kind of behaviour, mainly because he doesn't know what causes it. He has a naturally high need for harmony and usually he will change the topic or say something completely out of context to get Neil out of his bitchy bubble. Or, if the situation allows it, try to initiate sex. 

“Do you want to do these things, Chris? Hold hands in a restaurant and all that?“ The tone of Neil’s voice is difficult to interpret. It sounds almost a bit taunting. 

“What?“

“Is that why you’ve been watching them?“

“Are you being serious now?“ Chris rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his glass again. Then another one. He knows that Neil knows he’s at least a wee bit right. A part of Chris wants to do it. Be just like them. Hold hands. Kiss Neil on the cheek so that everybody can see it. 

Neil puts his hand in the middle of the table. His face is a dare. “Go on then,“ he says. He could have just as well handed Chris a knife and asked him to stab his hand with it. 

Chris stares at Neil’s hand and then at his face. It’s pure provocation. After a minute of silence Neil pulls his hand back. “See,“ he says. “Deep down, you _know_ we can’t do this.“

“I don’t think they’d kick us out if we did.“

“But you didn’t do it.“

“I dunno a lot ‘bout dating, Neil. I don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t. That’s why I’ve been watching’em. For God’s sake.“

“Well, we’re not on a date, are we.“ Neil raises his hand again and when the waiter comes back, he asks for the bill. “So don’t puzzle yourself.“

Chris feels a sting in his chest. So that’s that, Chris thinks. Neil has decided they’re not dating anyway. But is this really surprising? 

The waiter comes back and they exchange a quick look before Chris pays the bill for both of them. And he’s asking himself once again if the waiter thinks they’re friends, family members, or if he actually suspects they’re lovers. He’s relieved when they leave the restaurant. 

They walk quietly next to each other. There isn’t anything to say. Neil makes a comment about a man’s coat on their way to the underground, “I’ve always wanted a long coat like that, I wonder if it was Armani, it could very well have been,“ but that’s about it. 

The tube is surprisingly empty and they sit down in the front part of the train, with no other passengers around them. Chris holds his hands clasped in his lap and looks out the window, even though there isn’t anything to see. When he suddenly feels Neil’s hand on his own, he almost gives a yelp. It’s the last thing he’s expected. Neil doesn’t say anything, his face is turned away from Chris, and his hand lays on Chris’s hands, just like that. Chris feels heat spreading through his veins and his heart skips a beat. 

“Neil, what-“

With a subtle shake of his head Neil signals him to shut up, but he leaves his hand where it is. Chris is so surprised, he doesn't even dare to move his own hand, so they could hold hands properly, in case it would be too much. But Neil’s hand remains on Chris’s until they’re close to their destination. As soon as they get up, Neil hides his hands in his pockets and that’s where they remain until they arrive home. Neither of them mentions the incident again and by the time they go to bed, all the awkwardness from the restaurant seems forgotten.  
Later on, Chris lies awake. Neil’s face is close to his shoulder and he can feel his breath on his skin, one of Neil’s hands rests on his chest. A thought has begun to arise on his mind. Maybe some time away from London would be nice. They could go somewhere together for a day or two, just to get a change of scenery. With these thoughts, he puts his hand on Neil’s. It feels nice to hold it. It felt nice to hold Neil’s hand on the tube, too, and now, doing the same again, he begins to understand how much he likes holding Neil’s hands. It’s a feeling of affection and reassurance, a sign of their bond. 

He wonders if he likes it too much.

_________

Time races past. The closer the 30th of April comes, the less can Chris imagine that he actually would have gone and left his London life behind. He’s told his boss that he’d stay for the warehouse project, and he’s also rung his mother again to tell her that he’ll stay in London. It’s difficult to tell if she agrees with it or not, but she lets him proceed. Chris tries to remember to ring her more often (even though she usually ends up talking to Neil), and when the 30th comes closer, they decide that Chris will spend a week in Blackpool before he starts the new project at the office. Besides seeing his family, it’s a chance to take some of his stuff over there - since he’s moved in with Neil, he’s only unpacked the things he actually needs, everything else still sits around in boxes. The trombone was parked in a corner of the living room the day Chris moved in and it has remained there ever since.

One night, a week before Chris’s trip, they lie in bed together, breathless and full of bliss. It’s only been the third or fourth time they’ve managed to, as Neil likes to put it, go all the way - which means, he’s been able to penetrate Chris during sex. After fingering turned out to be a rather satisfying experience for both of them, Chris suggested to try the next step. It ended in a little crisis with a highly embarrassed Chris, who was convinced that it was his fault, and a very remorseful Neil, who was more than anything worried he’d hurt Chris. Chris even considered sleeping on the sofa again for a while, and he couldn’t look into Neil’s eyes for a whole day, until Neil finally convinced him that what had happened was perfectly normal - that it was quite common, really, that it wouldn’t work at the first attempt. The second time, a week later, went (quite literally) a lot smoother already. Most of the time, they still stick to other things, which lead to guaranteed satisfaction, but Chris can’t deny that he’d felt a certain sort of pride when he realised how much pleasure one can experience from this way of having sex. This, being loved by a man, feels right and afterwards, Chris will feel drunk with pleasure and wobbly on his feet.

This same post-orgasmic drunkenness is what he feels right now. He lies on his back with Neil next to him, slowly stroking his chest. 

“I’ve been thinking,“ Chris says, facing Neil. “About next week.“

“Yeah?“ 

“Would you like to come with me?“

Neil’s hand stops moving. “What, you mean go to Blackpool with you?“ He sounds like Chris had suggested they fly to Mars. 

“Yes. I mean, not for the whole week, I know you’ve got work to do and all, but for the weekend.“

Neil takes a deep breath. He sits up, leans against the headpiece of the bed and rubs his eyes. “And you really think it’s that easy, do you?“

Chris doesn’t understand. “Why, do you think it’s difficult, or what?“

“I can’t just go to Blackpool with you, Chris.“ 

“Why not?“

“What would your family think? Your mum’s expecting you to bring a pretty, posh girl from the West End home one day, not a 27-year-old journalist, who is…not a girl.“

“She’s not expecting me to bring anyone,“ Chris replies. “And she knows you. They all know I’m staying with you, so why shouldn't you come with me?“

“Your mum finds it odd already that I don’t have a girlfriend. At my age. If I turn up there with you, what do you think will their conclusion be?“

“Nothing. That you wanted to see Blackpool, maybe, because your very platonic friend and flatmate happens to spend a week there.“

“Chris, stop being naive.“

“I’m not naive. You’re paranoid.“ Chris is beginning to wish he wouldn’t have asked. 

“Oh, am I?“ Neil sounds indignant. “How many times have people called you a _bespectacled poof_? How many times have they told you that you’re going to burn in hell? How many times have you been afraid to talk, because of the way your voice sounds? Have people ever called you camp? A fairy? A faggot?“

“No,“ Chris says with a small voice. 

“And you call me paranoid.“ 

“All I’m saying is, maybe there isn’t anything to be worried about. I mean, I’m not asking you to walk hand in hand along the seafront, am I.“

“Why haven’t you told your mother then? Or your dad? Or your siblings? If there’s nothing to be worried about, why don’t they know that you are…“

“That I’m _what_?“

“You’re gay.“ Neil spits the word out as if it was a piece of rotten food. 

“I’ve never said I was. Fuck Neil, I don’t even know myself if I am.“ Chris is getting fed up. He doesn't understand what Neil’s problem is. And he is annoyed because he’s brought the topic up and now everything is awkward. The conversation has created a distance between them, while less than ten minutes before, Chris had felt so close and connected to Neil as if they had become _one_ , as if nothing could ever get between them. Now he’s not so sure anymore. 

“Oh, my bad. I don’t know what made me think that,“ Neil says. 

“This is not about me being gay or being anything,“ Chris answers. “I mean, how is one supposed to know what they are, anyway. How do _you_ know?“ He can't stop himself from rambling anymore. 

“How do I-“ Neil stops again. “Seriously? After what we’ve done, like, five minutes ago?“

“I mean, how do I know I enjoy being with you only because I’m gay,“ Chris says. “That I like you because you’re a man and not a woman. Maybe I just like you.“

Neil furrows a brow. Chris is not quite sure about what he has said either. He might have told Neil that he _likes_ him, in some way. 

“Chris…“ Neil sighs and the anger fades from his face. “Forget about it. It’s not really important. The only thing people see is that we are two men, neither of us has a girlfriend and we live together. It’s enough for most of them.“ He bends his knees and puts his arms around them. Chris feels his own anger lessening and being replaced by something else. A mixture of sympathy, affection and something he cannot quite determine. A sense of a premonition. He wouldn’t have thought that something so ordinary like a weekend away would trouble Neil. If that stresses him already, does that mean he may never want to take their relationship out of the bedroom? It’s not something Chris has thought about a lot, though - he knows that being in a relationship with another man could cause issues, but he wonders how bad it would really be. There are more and more openly gay musicians around, gay clubs are a big thing in the music scene and things change slowly but surely, don’t they. At least that’s his impression. In Liverpool it is a very common thing to see gay people in bars or pubs and he knows that some of his fellow students are gay or bisexual. And Neil seemed so relaxed at Heaven when he asked Chris what made him think he was straight, proud almost. 

“I’m sorry,“ Chris says. “I didn't want to make you feel uneasy.“

Neil shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry.“ He rests his head on his knees. Chris wants to reach out and touch him, but he's got a sense that Neil doesn't want that right now. “But it’s…it’s not easy sometimes,“ Neil adds. It sounds like there’s more on his mind, but whatever it is, he keeps it to himself. 

Chris bites his lips. Neil has put up his wall around him again and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to allow this whatever-it-is to get between them. Neil remains quiet. After a while Chris has enough of the awkwardness, so he moves closer to Neil and leans against him. 

“Maybe it can be easy,“ he says. 

Neil chuckles sarcastically. “I admire your optimism. I really do.“ 

“Mhhh.“ Chris rests his head on Neil’s shoulder and puts an arm around him. “And I admire what you did to me earlier.“ 

Neil looks at him, visibly perplexed by the sudden change of topic. “Pardon me?“ 

Chris moves closer. “I love it when you’re inside me,“ he whispers into Neil’s ear and hears him gasp. He smiles, knowing that Neil likes it when he’s straight to the point like this. “Easy, wasn’t it? To say that was _eeeaasy_.“ He excessively overemphasises the word, but it has the desired effect and Neil finally laughs. 

“Tell me more,“ he says. “What is it exactly you admire?“ 

“Your dexterity…“ He lays a kiss on Neil’s neck. “What you do with your mouth…“ Another kiss follows and Neil sighs pleasurably. “And with your…“ Before he can say anymore, Neil turns towards Chris and kisses him, puts an arm around him and holds him closely pressed against himself. Chris forgets about all the red flags. This, being with Neil, being close, it’s all that matters. Fuck the world. Everything that matters is here, in this room. 

“I’ll give you another demonstration of my skills, if you want,“ Neil whispers into the kiss. 

Chris doesn’t answer anymore. He’s relieved the conversation is over. What he wants is to feel close to Neil again, and for a short eternity, they return to the little universe of their own, where the outside world cannot find them. 

When they sit in the kitchen the next morning, eating toast with jam, Chris notices that Neil keeps looking at him with a piercing glance. 

“Have I got jam all over me face or why are you staring at me like that?“ he asks after a while. 

“I thought about what you said last night,“ Neil answers. “Let’s do it. I’ll come with you. Let’s try _easy_.“

________

One week later, they put the plan into action, even though Chris can hardly believe that Neil actually means it. Only when they’re standing at the platform together, waiting for the train to Blackpool, he begins to realise it. After announcing he would come, Neil wouldn't bring the topic up anymore, until Chris started to believe that Neil had changed his mind. But then, a few days later, he came home, produced a train ticket out of his pocket and put it on the table, without any words. And another three days later they already head to the train station together.

There’s another advantage about Neil accompanying Chris: together they can carry twice as much. So Chris has packed two big suitcases full of stuff to dump at his family’s house. Stuff he’s brought to London when he first moved there and other things he’s collected ever since, mainly clothes he doesn’t need. 

“Aren’t you taking the trombone?“ Neil asked innocently while Chris was stuffing as much as possible into the first suitcase. 

“Oh, no, probably not.“

“I’m just saying, it’s, uhm…a bit of a dust catcher.“

“I told you, we might need it.“ Chris has tried to avoid the issue with the trombone so far, because he knows his mother wouldn't be happy to learn that he never uses it, let alone tries to get rid of it. “Imagine we come up with our hit record and then we can’t finish it, and we think _If only Chris still had his trombone_. Then you’ll be to blame.“

“Yeah,“ Neil scoffed. “I can totally see that happening.“

The one thing Chris was slightly worried about was telling his parents. Mainly because Neil seemed so worried about it. Somehow he infected Chris with the thought his mother could be suspicious, but it turned out that quite the opposite was the case. 

“Of COURSE he can come with you,“ she said. “It’s the least we can do after he’s looked after you for so long.“

“He’s not _looking after_ me, Mother…“ 

“Whatever. It’s a pleasure to return the hospitality. Please tell Mr. Tennant he’s more than welcome to stay as long as he wishes.“ And when Chris told Neil exactly that, Neil finally seemed to believe that sometimes things can be easy. 

On the train Chris learns something new - Neil is one of those people who are a bit overly fond of window seats and he claims it before Chris even has a chance. Then he spends ages taking his coat off and folding it up, while Chris heaves the bags onto the luggage compartment.

“You could at least give me a hand,“ Chris says when he’s lifting the second bag up.

“It’s your stuff after all,“ Neil answers, but he gets up and gives Chris a hand with the last bag. They sit quietly next to each other for a while, and Chris notices that Neil doesn't actually look out the window as much. Maybe he wanted the window seat just for the sake of it. 

“I love travelling,“ Neil proclaims after a while. “The landscape here is so beautiful.“

“Yeah,“ Chris replies. “It’s nice to see something else but London every now and then.“ He’s not paying a lot of attention to the landscape, though. He feels a kind of happiness and excitement he’s never felt before, and he keeps looking at Neil to convince himself that they really are going together. Occasionally their knees will touch inadvertently, or their elbows. Whenever this happens, they’ll share a look, a coy smile or even a wink, and Chris has the feeling that they’re both unconsciously trying to initiate these subtle touches. 

“So, what are you going to tell them if they ask any nosy questions?“ Neil asks later. He’s been reading a newspaper and is now folding it up neatly to put it away.

“Dunno. Let’s see how it goes. There’s no reason why they should be suspicious. And I don’t actually believe my parents would be horrified by the thought of…“ He pauses and reconsiders what he’s going to say. He was going for _of us being more than just friends_ or even _a couple_ , but he decides not to say it. He doesn't know if they are. And according to Neil, they’re not dating. “…of me being not straight,“ he says instead. Better to test the waters first and see how Neil reacts.

“Yeah?“

“They’ve always been really friendly and open towards everybody.“

Neil smiles. “You’re lucky. And your mother sounds lovely on the telephone, I have to say. But, Chris…“ He looks around as if he wants to make sure that nobody is eavesdropping. “There’s no hurry to tell anyone anything. If you ever decide to talk to them, there’s always the chance that they’re not, let’s say, overly excited about it. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed.“ 

Chris nods. He doesn't ask, but he wonders if Neil speaks from experience. “Maybe at some point,“ he says. “And didn’t you say the other day we weren’t dating, anyway?“ 

“I said we weren’t on a date.“ Neil looks out the window again. “So…yeah. Anyway.“ And the topic gets shoved under the carpet. “Have you got anything planned? Something special?“

“Nothing special. Apart from showing you the beach. I thought we’d just go for a walk and I’ll show you a few places.“

“A magical mystery tour.“

“Yeah, I guess.“ Chris chuckles. 

They smile at each other.


	11. 11.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Neil spend a weekend in Blackpool and Neil meets Chris's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, some serious notes first. Yeah, no, you don't have to take notes on the notes. Yes, you can eat in the meantime, but don't make a noise, please. 
> 
> 1\. OMG THANK YOU. I did NOT expect anyone to finish the tasks I put in the author's notes of the previous chapter and I was amazed. I can't even tell you. 
> 
> 2\. This chapter here deals with Chris's family. I have NO CLUE how they are and as they also are real people, I found it very difficult to write their characters. As Vicky appears on some photos and gets mentioned in interviews, I found it the easiest to write her. His brothers probably won't make an appearance. The only thing I really know about his mother is that she used to ring them quite often and that Neil would be the one who kept her up to date, and that she has a good recipe for pie. So that's what her character's based on. 
> 
> 3\. It's also a very long chapter, but I decided to upload all the Blackpool scenes in one go. Otherwise I'll end up with a ridiculous amount of chapters in the end. 
> 
> 4\. Fun fact - Blackpool is also called the gay capitol of the North, like Brighton is the gay capitol of the South. And an awful lot of other musicians are from there, too - Dave Ball and Robert Smith being two of them. 
> 
> 5\. THE CHEESY SONG REFERENCES ARE BACK. And they may have reached a new level.
> 
> So, grab yourself a nice cuppa and a biscuit and enjoy!

When they arrive, Chris’s mother picks them up with the car. She exuberantly greets Neil and insists that he sits on the front seat, so they can chat. Chris is exiled to the back seat and after a while, he gives up trying to participate in the conversation, as they can hardly hear what he’s saying. Neil tells her about the journey and thanks her for having him, and Chris’s mother affirms how happy she is about the visit. 

“I was worried when Chris moved to London,“ she says. “You never know what kind of dodgy people one meets, eh? I’m so glad he’s staying with you. I hope you’ll enjoy your time here.“ 

“And it really is no trouble?“ Neil asks.

“Oh, don’t you worry.“ She gives him her most winning smile. “I’m always telling my children they can bring their friends whenever they want.“

“We’re adults, we’re not 10 anymore,“ Chris complains, but both his mother and Neil ignore him. 

For a short moment, Chris feels worried when his mother pulls into their driveway. Maybe Neil won’t like the house. Maybe it’s not tidy enough. And he realises that what they are about to do is a big step - he’s invited Neil into his most private microcosm, his childhood home, where photos of him as a three-year-old hang on the walls, a place full of potentially embarrassing anecdotes, which could be brought up by his parents or siblings. Neil’s going to see his past. His origins. And that’s almost as intimate as seeing someone naked for the first time. 

“It’s not special,“ Chris says when his mother unlocks the front door. He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe to make sure Neil doesn't expect anything special. 

“Don’t worry,“ Neil answers. And then he steps into Chris’s house and looks around. “This is lovely.“ Neil hangs his coat on a hook. “Cosy. A proper home.“ And Chris feels the happiness inside him reaching a new level.

They have a spare room which Chris’s mother has prepared for Neil to sleep in. It’s quite simple, but perfectly adequate for two nights and Neil assures Mrs. Lowe that he’s very happy with the accommodation. Chris isn’t sure if that’s just Neil being polite or if he’s genuinely happy with it, but if he wants to make a good impression, he’s definitely nailing it. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,“ his mother says after she’s shown Neil his room. “I’m sure you’re tired after the journey. I’ll have dinner ready by six. And your father will be here shortly.“

“Where’s Vicky?“ Chris asks. “And Greg?“ 

“Vicky’s with a friend. She’ll be home tomorrow. Greg’s out with the boy scouts this weekend.“

“Oh well, you’re only gonna see my sister then,“ Chris says to Neil, hoping his mother can’t see how grateful he is for these circumstances. Greg is the one who’d most likely tell Neil all these unflattering stories, Chris can literally hear his youngest brother say _Hi, I’m Greg, did you know that Chris ate too much candy on his tenth birthday and puked in the middle of the living room? It was AWESOME._

“I told them you’d come and bring Mr. Tennant, but there you go,“ Mrs. Lowe says. 

“Oh, please,“ Neil says. “It’s Neil.“

“Oh, of course! Please let me know whenever you need anything, Neil.“ She smiles again before she heads downstairs. 

“My God,“ Chris says. “My mum’s all over you.“

“She’s a lovely lady.“ Neil puts the bag with his things on a chair. “Where’s your room?“

“My room?“

“Yeah. Your childhood room.“

“Oh. Erm. It’s at the other end of the corridor.“

“Can I see it?“ 

“Yeah, sure.“ Chris’s face has grown hot again. But he motions Neil to follow him and takes him to the room where his childhood and teenager self have spent most of their time. He opens the door and feels like stepping back in time for a moment, even though quite a lot of the things he owned as a child are not there anymore. Most of his toys are in the basement, so are the old posters which used to decorate the walls (mainly the Bee Gees, some of the others include Nina Simone and Pink Floyd). The record player is gone, most of his cassettes and vinyls he’s taken over to London. Some of his old school books still sit in a shelf and collect dust: Geography, maths, a copy of _Oliver Twist_. His old Enid Blyton books are still there, too. And a couple of photos. 

“Oh.“ Neil sounds surprised. “It’s…minimalistic.“

“I never needed much,“ Chris says. “But most of my old toys sit in boxes in the basement. And a lot was passed down to Tim and then to Vicky and finally to Greg, and he broke quite a lot of it.“ He opens the window to let some fresh air in. 

“Oh dear, is that you?“ Neil has spotted the photos. One of them shows Chris with his sister Vicky and his brother Tim, another one shows him, two years old, eating a sandwich. Chris takes a deep breath. 

“Who else should it be,“ he says. 

Neil chuckles. “Look at you. Weren’t you adorable.“ 

Chris laughs nervously. “Now you gotta show me a baby photo of you, too.“

“I got one somewhere from when I was three…It was summer. Very hot. So Susan decided to get a bucket full of water and empty it over my head. My mother took a photo of her doing that. And I’m naked.“ 

Chris laughs. “I’ll remind you. I’m looking forward to seeing that.“

“I’m sure you do.“ Neil turns to Chris and smirks. “So, tell me. Have you ever kissed anyone in this room?“ 

“WHAT?“ 

“Have you?“ Neil grins. “I’m curious.“

Chris blushes. “I…erm…When I was ten. I think. A girl. It was…unspectacular.“

“How innocent.“ Neil stretches his hand out and waits for Chris to take it. When he does, he pulls Chris closer to him. “This is a premiere then,“ he says, before he lays his lips on Chris’s and kisses him fondly. Chris is so surprised that it takes him a moment to engage in it. But then he kisses Neil back, he puts his hands around Neil’s face and moves his thumbs over the contours of his cheekbones, brushes his fingers through his soft curls. And all of a sudden Chris realises something. Something he’s maybe known already, something inevitable, something he hasn't allowed himself to think about until now. Something he’s already told Neil several months ago, when he came home drunk from Heaven. He’s fallen for Neil. He’s fallen deeply. It hits him like a sledgehammer. 

Neil smiles. “You were right,“ he says. “So far it’s been fabulous.“ He tilts his head. “Are you alright? You look as if you’d seen a ghost.“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.“ Chris clears his throat. “Sorry. Erm, do you wanna see the rest of the house? Maybe me dad’s here now, too.“ 

“Sure.“ 

For the moment, Chris is relieved to leave the confined space of his room behind and walk around with Neil, so he can collect his thoughts. He shows Neil the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom, then he takes him upstairs to the attic where they keep an old grand piano, multiple music-stands and several instruments: a keyboard, another trombone, guitars. Some instruments belong to his grandfather, some to him, and some have been around for so long that he doesn't even remember who originally owned them. Neil is amazed. 

“Wow,“ he says. “Your family is truly musical.“ He puts his hand on the piano, full of reverence. “I had no idea.“

“Yeah. Here, look.“ Chris points to a photo that hangs on the wall. “That’s my grandfather in Las Vegas. The grand was originally his.“ 

Neil studies the photo for a while. “Amazing,“ he says. “I can see where you’re coming from.“ Chris feels proud when Neil says that. 

They go back downstairs, Chris shows Neil the little garden behind the house and after that, they meet Chris’s parents in the kitchen for dinner. Chris’s father shakes Neil’s hand and tells him that he’s very pleased about his son having a mate with a proper job. Then they talk about politics for a while and Chris goes and puts the plates and cutlery on the table. Mrs. Lowe has made a cottage pie. 

When they sit down to eat, Mr. Lowe keeps asking Neil all sorts of questions about his job and about living in London. Neil makes an effort to answer all the questions and also praises the food, which seems to make Mrs. Lowe incredibly gratified. Chris doesn't engage in the conversation too much, he’s observing Neil interacting with his parents. He’s stunned to see how well Neil gets on with them, but it’s not really surprising - Neil is one of those people who find it easy to start a conversation and keep it going, unlike Chris himself. Neil can talk about any topic there is, he has an opinion on everything and he’s a good listener, too. Chris begins to wonder if it would work the same vice versa - would he be able to impress Neil’s parents the same way? He can’t even imagine how they could be. Maybe a bit conservative. He knows that they’re Catholics and he can’t help but think that they might be a bit more stuffy than his own family. Maybe they’d consider him too common. Not posh. Not educated enough. But then, Neil may never actually introduce him to his parents. 

“So, no missus waitin’ for ye back in London, Neil?“ Mr. Lowe chuckles and Mrs. Lowe casts a taunting look at her husband. 

Neil smiles politely. “There’s no missus, Mr. Lowe.“

“Good on ye. Saves ye some troubles.“ He laughs loudly. “A bachelor then, eh?“

“I reckon so.“ Neil puts some more food in his mouth and chews it noticeably slowly. 

“Don’t ye keep Neil away from them ladies,“ Mr. Lowe says to Chris. “As happy as I am about Chris stayin’ with ye, ye’ll need a woman in yer life, young lad.“

“Chrissy will only stay there until this other project is finished, won’t he,“ Mrs. Lowe says. 

“Muuuuum…“ Chris moans and Neil has to suppress a snort when she calls him Chrissy. 

“It’s my work that keeps me from dating, if anything,“ Neil says. 

Mr. Lowe seems satisfied with Neil’s answer. “Well, ye’re still young.“ And he tucks into his dinner. For the rest of the time they talk about Chris’s work at the office and Chris is relieved that his parents have stopped interrogating Neil, who in fact seems to be enjoying himself, despite the awkward questions. When Chris’s mother offers them a drink after dinner, Neil denies and says he’d like to go upstairs to have an early night after the journey. 

“That’s fine,“ Mrs. Lowe says. “I hope you’ll get a good night’s sleep. Are you staying for a bit, Chrissy?“

Chris looks at Neil and then back at his mother. “Oh, I, erm…“

“S’alright, I’ll find the way,“ Neil says. “Thank you so much for the lovely dinner. I’ll see you all tomorrow.“ And he’s gone. Chris stays downstairs, unsure about what to do. His mother invites him to follow her to the living room, where his father is reading a newspaper. 

“Yer mate’s a gentleman,“ he says behind his paper. “Bit posh maybe.“

“Don’t listen to him,“ his mother says. “It’s so nice to have the two of you here.“

“I’ve shown Neil the attic,“ Chris says. “He plays the guitar. And the piano.“

“Oh, how nice. Do you play together sometimes?“

“Sometimes.“

“You still have your trombone, haven’t you?“ 

“Yeah, sure.“ Chris thinks about the trombone and how dusty it has become. Poor thing. 

“It would be a shame if you stopped using it. You’re so good at it.“

“I won’t stop, Mum.“

His father turns the TV on to watch the news and they stop talking. Chris begins to wonder what his mother really thinks, if there is something she thinks which she’s not telling him. But even if that is the case, she seems over the moon to have Neil around, and his father likes him too, and that’s all that matters. 

“I’ll go to bed, too,“ Chris says eventually. “I’m tired.“

Mrs. Lowe nods. “Sure. Good night, honey.“ And she gives him a kiss on the cheek. His father grumbles something behind his newspaper (Chris has never understood why his dad turns the TV on and then continues reading a paper, it’s something he’s done ever since they got their first TV). 

Chris heads upstairs, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and returns to his room. On the way he’s noticed that Neil has shut the door to the spare room, and he wonders if he’s already asleep. Chris sits down on his bed and shuts his eyes for a while, reviewing the day on his mind. It’s been better than he expected, actually. Apart from his father asking a few uncomfortable questions, but Neil handled the situation with sovereignty, so it’s fine. 

Neil. His thoughts wander off. What is he doing in the other room? Is he asleep? Or maybe writing? Does he want to be alone or could he even be expecting Chris to come over? 

_Go over and find out._ It’s Chris’s little shoulder devil speaking. _Or you’ll never know._

“I wouldn’t want to wake him up,“ Chris answers. 

_Come on, Chrissy. No point in sitting here. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll even get laid!_

_Oh, don’t you encourage him to do this!_ The little angel has made an appearance, too. _Not in his parents’ house!_

_Why not? Now get up, move your arse over there!_

_Yeah, I agree. You should go, Chrissy._

_Will you go back to your cloud already, you- wait. You agree?_

_I do. He should totally go over there. Not to engage in carnal desire, though._

_The day I thought would never come_ , the little devil exclaims, _heaven and hell agree on something! But if he goes anyway, why not have some fun?_

_It would be a shameless impudence!_

_YOU are an impudence._

While his shoulder demons keep arguing, Chris gets up and leaves his room. He hesitates when he stands in the corridor, but then he knocks on the door to the spare room. At first, nothing happens and Chris begins to think that Neil is asleep. But then the door swings open and Neil stands there, wearing only a t-shirt and his boxer shorts. 

“Chris,“ he says. 

“Have I woken you up?“

“No, no, I was reading.“ 

“Oh, good. I was, erm…I thought I’d say good night.“ _What a lot of nonsense_ , he thinks. But he doesn't know what else to say. Neil doesn't answer and he doesn't move, either. “You don't have to worry,“ Chris continues. “My parents sleep downstairs. They won’t come up here.“

Neil nods slowly. “Do you…I mean, come in.“ He steps aside. Chris enters the room and shuts the door again behind him. 

“Your dad is very frank,“ Neil says, but it sounds more amused than annoyed. 

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.“

“It’s OK. No damage done.“ Neil sits down on the bed and shuts the book he’s been reading. Chris quickly peeks at the cover - it’s Hemingway, but he can’t see the title. He sits down next to Neil. 

“Have you got everything you need?“

Neil smiles. “I do indeed,“ he says and Chris can’t really make out how he means that. Then Neil puts his hand on Chris’s. “Your parents are marvellous. I appreciate that you wanted me to come with you.“

“I’m glad you came.“ Chris takes Neil’s hand. 

“You know what?“

“What?“

“It will be weird to…you know. Sleep without you.“

Chris’s eyes widen when he hears Neil say that. He hasn't even thought about this aspect of the whole journey, for some reason, but Neil is right. For more than two months now, they’ve spent every night together. He’s got used to the feeling of Neil next to him, the sound of his breathing, waking up and finding himself curled up closely beside him. 

“I…I could stay here.“ Chris is quite sure that Neil will say no, but that doesn't mean he can’t suggest it.

“Chris…“ Neil sighs. He looks down on their hands. Chris is stroking the back of Neil’s hand with his thumb. “What if your parents see us?“

“They won’t. We’re adults, they won’t come check on us or anything.“

“We’d have to be quiet.“

“Who’s talking ‘bout sex, you pervert.“ Chris laughs. “I’m talking about _sleeping_ here. Besides, _you_ are the one who usually can be heard in the whole neighbourhood.“

Neil seems embarrassed, but then he smirks. “Fine,“ he says. “Stay. But I don’t know how we’ll fit in this bed together.“

It turns out that they do, but only if they lie on their sides. It takes a while for them to get comfortable and they end up facing each other, snuggled closely together. Neil puts his arms around Chris and pulls him in close. 

“Now we must not move until tomorrow,“ he whispers and they both smile. Chris isn't sure if he’ll be able to sleep at all. The limited space forces them to remain pressed against each other, so close that he can feel Neil’s heartbeat. It’s a strange situation; they both know they won’t have sex tonight, and this very thought makes Chris want Neil like mad. When Neil kisses him, it takes a lot of discipline to keep quiet and Chris has to force himself to pull his head away. And the fact that his crotch is pushed against Neil’s thigh doesn't help either. 

“Damn, that’s gonna be hard,“ Chris mutters.

“Yeah, I can feel that.“

“What- God, that’s not what I-“ 

Neil snorts. “I’m sorry. But I honestly don’t know how you’d explain the mess to your mother when she washes the sheets.“

“Neil, please…“ Chris buries his face between Neil’s shoulder and neck, giggling. The pure thought of his mother finding suspicious stains on the sheets is too much to take. But at least it calms him down a bit. And being cuddled up with Neil like this is incredibly nice too. It’s cosy and safe. 

“Sleep well, Chrissy,“ Neil whispers and breathes a kiss on Chris’s forehead.

Chris smiles. “You too.“

________

On the next day, right after breakfast (a nice home-made full-English), Chris takes Neil down to the seafront. They take the car and Neil is surprised to learn that Chris has a driver’s licence, which makes Chris feel proud. Usually Neil is the one who knows everything and how to do everything; now there’s something Chris can do and Neil cannot.

“Where may I take you today, sir,“ Chris says when Neil sits in the passenger’s seat. 

“Oh God, you’re making me feel old,“ Neil says, laughing. “Anywhere. You’re the guide.“

It’s a mild and sunny day. Chris parks the car and they wander along the seafront. The sea is calm and seagulls fly around them, screaming. 

“Have you ever noticed that seagulls always look grumpy?“ Chris asks. “And they’re constantly complaining.“

“Like some of my old school teachers.“ Neil watches a flock of seagulls taking off from the beach and then gracefully landing on the water. 

“Yelling at you because you haven't done your homework.“

“Or because you’ve accidentally kicked a football against the teacher’s head, because you sucked at football.“

“Or because you’ve mixed up everybody’s note sheets before your orchestra rehearsal, so that everybody got awfully confused and it took forever to find out who had whose sheets.“

Neil looks at Chris. “You did that?“

“I hated being in the orchestra. What a bunch of geeks.“

Chris hears Neil chuckle. He’s never talked a lot about his school time, and neither has Neil. Now that Chris thinks about it, there’s a lot he’s never told Neil. It simply never came up. Neil doesn't know about Chris’s previous jobs, he doesn't know what his favourite subject at school was or which hobbies he had as a kid, apart from playing the piano. And he doesn't really know anything about Neil, either, apart from some basic things - where he was born, what he did before he started working at Smash Hits and that he went to a Catholic school. And that it’s not one of Neil’s fondest memories. Maybe this trip is an opportunity for them to learn more about each other. 

When they come past Pleasure Beach, Chris points over to the big wheel.

“Look. I used to work there,“ he says. 

“Oh! That’s interesting.“ Neil smiles. “Looks like there’s a lot I don’t know about you. The mysterious Chris Lowe.“

“It was only for one summer. When I was still at school. The year after I was a dishwasher. I always had some sort of job.“

“Yeah, me too. I used to work at a museum once during the summer holidays. I never wanted a job where I’d get my hands dirty, and so far I haven’t had one.“

Chris laughs. “Ohhhh, afraid to break yer posh nails, are you?“

Neil gives him a smack on the shoulder. “Shut up. Better be grateful that my hands are as soft as they are.“ They glimpse at each other, snickering. Chris wishes to put his arm around Neil’s shoulder. Would anyone seriously care about it? 

He suppresses the wish and they continue their stroll. There’s a mild breeze near the sea and after a while, Neil takes his light denim jacket off. Chris watches Neil, who’s only wearing a t-shirt underneath, which is unusual (and Chris knows he’s brought several shirts and ties as well). It flatters his broad shoulders and slim waist. 

“What else is there I don’t know about you?“

“Huh?“ Chris has been so distracted that he didn't listen.

Neil repeats his question. 

“There isn’t a lot, really,“ Chris says. “I’m not very interesting. I was so unremarkable at school that most of my teachers wouldn’t even remember my name. I’ve always liked designing houses and things, so after school, I decided to do architecture. So I went to Liverpool. Then I started the internship, moved to London and met you.“

“You’re not uninteresting, Chris. You may not talk a lot, but that’s one of the things I like about you. And when you talk, you say interesting things.“ Neil pauses, grins and adds: “Most of the time.“ 

Chris is a bit startled by this sudden praise. But it feels good to hear it, even if Neil had to add this most of the time. Chris decides not to comment on it.

“And is there anything exceptional I don’t know about you?“

“Uhhmm, let me think…“ Neil crosses his hands behind his head. “I can’t draw. Like I really cannot draw. Wish I could. I admire the sketches you’ve shown me for this staircase.“ 

“Designing staircases and drawing is not the same thing,“ Chris says. “I’m just doodling around usually.“

“Looks better than my pathetic attempts. Right, what else. I’m claustrophobic. I hate elevators, for example.“

“Oh.“ Chris is a bit surprised to hear that. He still thinks of Neil as someone who’s not afraid of many things. “Well, maybe our next stop isn't a good idea then. I was gonna suggest to take you up Blackpool Tower.“

“And that would be in an elevator, I take it.“ 

“Yup.“

“Oh well, let’s go anyway and maybe you’ll be able to convince me,“ Neil says with a wink. 

While they’re walking, Chris tries to picture them walking hand in hand again, like they did on the way back from Primrose Hill. It’s not that he feels an urge to do it, he wants to know how the thought makes him feel. The way Neil has been behaving since they arrived is different from how he behaves in London in some ways, starting with the affectionate kiss in Chris’s old bedroom. He’s relaxed and at ease and his liberated happiness is highly infectious. 

Halfway between Pleasure Beach and Blackpool Tower they stop at a little seaside café and order coffee and cake. Neil says that he will have to increase his exercise level when he gets back to London, after all this food. Chris answers that he’ll do his best make sure that Neil gets enough exercise and Neil looks a bit sheepish at first, but then he begins to giggle and soon they are both laughing, until Neil covers his face with his hands. When he stops, his eyes are so full of affection that it makes Chris weak in the knees. _It could be like this forever_ , he thinks. 

They order a piece of carrot cake (“At least it’s got something healthy in it,“ Neil states) and a piece of the most luxurious chocolate fudge Chris has ever seen. While they eat, he notices that Neil keeps eyeing his plate.

“You wanna try?“ Chris asks.

Neil looks confused. “What?“

Instead of answering, Chris offers Neil a bite of his cake on his fork. Neil casts an _Are you sure about this_ look at him, but then he leans in and eats the cake off Chris’s fork. 

“Oh wow,“ he says. “That is amazing. Here, you gotta try mine now.“ And they repeat the procedure. Chris is pretty sure that Neil wouldn’t have done this kind of thing back in London; it’s probably the most coupley thing they’ve ever done. And nobody around seems to care. 

After they’ve finished their coffee, they continue their walk towards Blackpool Tower. It’s nice to walk next to each other without the need to talk constantly - being together is sufficient. When they stop at the tower, Neil gazes at it in total awe.

“That’s impressive,“ he says. 

“I love it,“ Chris says. “It used to be the highest building in the UK when it was finished. And it was inspired by the Eiffel tower.“

“Oh really! I didn’t know that.“ Neil points up to the top. “How high is it?“

“518 feet.“ Chris feels a boost of confidence when he says it. He may not have read Shakespeare or Hemingway and he doesn't understand Neil’s random French phrases, but he knows a lot about this building. 

“It’s stunning.“ 

Chris looks at Neil. “So…Are you going to be brave? Or rather not?“ 

Neil chuckles. “You know, I would hate myself for the rest of the day if we don’t go up there now,“ he says. “I’ll just close my eyes in the elevator.“

And that is indeed what he does, all the way up to the highest of the three platforms. Chris would like to take Neil’s hand, but there are other people around. So all he does is keep an eye on Neil on their way up. Neil leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, his eyes shut. When they get out around 430 feet above sea level, he seems relieved. 

“Oh my God, Chris,“ Neil says, when they reach the railing. “The view is stunning.“

Chris nods. It’s been a while since he’s been up here and it’s easy to forget how astonishing it is. He feels very humble. It’s like a reminder of how small they both are, compared to the huge world around them. What difference does it make to the world whether they sleep with women or with men? None whatsoever. 

“Thank you,“ Neil says out of the blue. 

“For what?“

“For taking me.“ He smiles. “I’m sorry I almost said no.“

“S’alright. I understand. I think.“

Time flies. When they realise how much time they’ve already spent on the tower, they decide to head back and get lunch somewhere. Chris convinces Neil to have fish ’n’ chips - a must in every seaside city. They stop at a restaurant near the beach and enjoy fresh, battered plaice with crispy chips and Neil agrees that the fish one can get in London can’t compete with this.  
“Have you anything else planned for today?“ he asks once he’s finished. 

“My sister is home now, so you’ll meet her. And if you like we can go out for a drink in the evening, there’s a pub down the road.“

“Sounds good. What’s your older brother doing, anyway? How old did you say he was?“

“Tim’s 19. He moved out last year to do an apprenticeship in Southampton. Thank God. Last time I saw him he was constantly getting on me nerves.“ Chris rolls his eyes. “And Greg’s even younger than Vicky, I’m actually not overly disappointed that he’s not here at the moment.“

Neil laughs. “Yeah, little brothers tend to be a proper pain. Alright then. Shall we?“

________

Vicky, Chris’s 16-year-old sister, who’s usually very chatty and easy-going, presents herself in a more reserved way than Chris expected. She almost seems to be intimidated by Neil’s presence and Chris puts it down to the fact that Neil is, after all, eleven years older than her. In her eyes, he’s a real adult. Not someone her brother would hang around with. She comes downstairs to greet them when they return from their outing, but quickly disappears in her room again.

Neither Chris nor Neil have realised how long they’ve been out and there isn’t a lot of time left before dinner. For a while they sit in the living room and Neil talks to Mrs. Lowe about his previous job as a book editor and about the best way to prepare a Sunday roast. When she goes to the kitchen, Chris and Neil stay in the living room on their own.

“Hey,“ Neil says. “I’ve never actually heard you play a proper piano. Does the one in the attic work?“

“Course it does. It’s just been tuned recently.“

“Would you give me a little demonstration?“

“Erm, yeah. Sure.“ Chris feels a bit nervous. It’s been a while since he’s last played on a grand, but it’s better to do that than awkwardly sitting in the living room, and they make their way upstairs. 

“Vicky will be awfully annoyed,“ Chris quips. “Her room is right underneath the thing. Sorry, by the way. Normally she’s not like that. She’s quite nice, really, I mean, unless she’s in one of her moods.“

“Like you.“ Neil grins. He kneels down next to an old Fender guitar and lies his finger on the strings. Chris watches him doing it and he can’t help but see the similarities between how Neil touches this guitar and how he touches him sometimes. Fondly and gentle.

“Are you saying I’m moody?“ Chris sits down on the stool in front of the piano and uncovers the keys. 

“I would never say that.“

Chris plays a few tunes. “What’ye wanna hear?“

“What, haven’t you finished the song for me yet?“ A cheeky smile appears on Neil’s face. Chris remembers Neil’s suggestion to write a song for him, which he hasn't done. 

“Oh yeah,“ he says. “Alright. This is for you. It’s called _Stop being bloody impatient and give me a break_.“ He stretches his fingers. Then he begins to play. It’s a half-improvised composition, part of it he’s actually written down, but it’s not something he’s written specifically for Neil. But it could be for him. Maybe it is for him and he just didn't know it yet. 

Every now and then, Chris peeks over to Neil, who sits cross-legged on the floor and listens. When Chris stops, Neil gets up. 

“You’re a fantastic pianist,“ he says. 

“Thank you.“ Chris scratches his nose. Neil has told him before that he admires his skills when he’s played the keyboard, but playing on a grand is a totally different thing altogether. Chris feels flattered, but also hit by a sudden shyness. 

“Alright. Move over.“

“What?“

“Move. Over.“ 

“God, you’re a bossy individual,“ Chris murmurs, but he moves and Neil sits down next to him. The closeness sends a shiver all the way down Chris’s spine and he takes a deep breath. He can smell Neil’s shampoo and aftershave and he feels the overwhelming desire to kiss him, rip his clothes off and love him, right here, on the floor. He clears his throat. 

“Alright,“ Neil says. “I don’t even know if I still know how to do this, but…“ He lays his hands on the keys. His fingers are long and elegant and Chris can’t take his eyes off them. “This is by Claude Debussy. It’s called _La Cathédral Englutie_.“ Slowly, he begins to play. It’s a very deep song, with an underlying sadness to it. Every now and then Neil pauses or hesitates, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a good player. Chris watches Neil’s fingers dancing over the keys, slowly first, then faster, when he plays the crescendo. The piece becomes more powerful and when it reaches its peak, Neil is engaged in it with his whole body, unlike Chris himself, who tends to keep a more stoic pose when he plays.

Neil plays the last part with his eyes closed. When he finally stops, his hands remain on the keys and he opens his eyes. 

“That was beautiful,“ Chris says quietly. Neil doesn't make any attempt to get up. The room temperature seems to have risen since Neil sat down next to Chris and he feels his heart beating faster and faster. Neil takes one hand off of the keys and puts it around Chris’s waist, which makes Chris wince. Their eyes meet. Chris knows that there are words lying on the tip of his tongue, and he is afraid to say them. He’s said them before and he’s not sure if Neil wants to hear them again, but the situation, the beautiful music, the closeness, all these things have brought the words up to the surface again, after they’ve been buried for so long. 

“Neil, I…“ Chris feels a lump in his throat. “I…“

Before he can say anything else, Neil’s lips are on his own, sealing his mouth with a passionate kiss. The words slowly return to Chris’s subconscious mind. It takes Chris some energy to resist the temptation of getting his hands underneath Neil’s t-shirt. His arms are wrapped around him tightly.

Then his mother calls. Dinner is ready. Neil lets go and they stare at each other, heavily breathing. Neil’s cheeks have turned pink. 

“Ready?“ 

“Fuck. No.“ Chris needs a cold shower. But there’s no time for that. 

“OK. Let’s go then.“

________

The conversation during dinner is already a lot more casual than the day before and in Neil, Mr. Lowe has found a conversational partner to debate every current political topic he disagrees with. Vicky remains quiet most of the time. Neil, being the polite person he is, asks her a few things and she answers, but it doesn't come to a real conversation between them. Chris decides to ask her why she’s behaving like this as soon as Neil is on his way back to London.

That’s going to be pretty soon already. Chris feels the lump in his throat building again. Not because of the fact that he won’t see Neil for five days, but because he doesn't want their little timeout to end. Who knows how things will be back in London. 

After dinner, Neil helps Mrs. Lowe to sort out the kitchen and Chris watches them, still amazed how well they get on. If he was a girl, his mother would have probably asked him if they already had a wedding date. While Neil is still in the kitchen, Vicky sits down next to Chris. 

“Are you going out?“ she asks.

“Yeah, why?“

“Can I come?“ 

“What- No! You’ve hardly spoken to me the entire day and now you wanna go out with us? Besides, you’re only 16.“ 

“And? I’ve been to the pub before.“ 

“Ask me again when you’re 18.“

“Why did you bring him with you?“ she asks and glimpses over to the kitchen. 

“That’s none o’yer business.“

“You’ve never brought anyone home.“

“And?“

“Nothing.“ Her voice sounds artificially innocent. She shrugs her shoulders and then Neil returns from the kitchen. 

“Are you ready?“ he asks. Chris nods. Before he gets up, he glares at Vicky, who rolls her eyes, gets up and heads back to her room. 

“You alright?“ Neil sounds a bit confused. 

“Yeah, fine. Told you she was moody.“ Chris smiles. “Let’s go.“

________

The pub is full. Of course, it always is on a Saturday evening. There are no free tables, so they sit at the counter. Chris orders a pint of lager for himself and a glass of red wine for Neil. Neil looks around.

“Nothing like an English pub,“ he says. “This is nice.“ He raises his glass before he takes a sip, then nods approvingly. “Almost strange thinking about going back tomorrow.“

“Yeah. I know.“ Chris holds his glass with both hands. 

“It’s been a lovely day, really,“ Neil says. “What are you going to do for the rest of the week?“

“Oh, I’ll probably see some of me mates from school, and I’ll try spend some time with my mum. And Vicky. Maybe I’ll find out why she’s behaving like that.“

“She’s a teenager.“ Neil sips his drink and cackles. “I think I was awful as a teenager. I was such a smart-arse. Always knew everything better than anyone else.“

“Was?“ Chris laughs and reaps a light smack on the knee. “Ow!“ Neil smiles innocently. 

They sit in the pub for a long time and after they’ve finished their drinks, they order another one. Chris feels light-headed. Everything seems to be too good to be true. Being here, in his home town, with Neil, still feels surreal. Neil has been a big part of his life for almost nine months now, but only of his London life. Now he has brought a part of his London life into his Blackpool life, and that was a risk. It could have turned out that the two were incompatible. But they seem to fit perfectly together. 

They stay until the pub closes. On the way home, Neil, who’s clearly tipsy, spins tall tales about the people they’ve seen at the pub, so intricate that Chris finds it difficult to follow him. 

“…but Janet, the bartender’s widow, has secretly already told Mr. Smith that his gardener, Walter, is indeed the missing son of her friend Penelope, who…“

“Neil?“

“…who also has an affair with the postman. Yeah?“ 

Chris stops walking. They’re about a hundred yards away from his house. “Before we go in. I just wanted to say, Vicky’s room is next to mine, so still quite far from yours, but…if you don’t want me to sleep with you again…“

“What are you talking about? I’m expecting you at the witching hour, when the clock strikes twelve, underneath my window. I’ll let you in. And before the break of dawn, you’ll leave the same way.“

“Idiot.“

“She should be asleep by now, shouldn’t she?“

“I reckon so.“

“Just wait a little while and then come over, if you like.“ Neil’s voice slurs. “If I’m asleep already, please don’t wake me up.“

All the lights in the house are already switched off and Chris unlocks and shuts the front door as quiet as possible. They tiptoe upstairs. Neil is the first one to go to the bathroom and Chris waits in his own room until Neil’s done, then he goes to brush his teeth and washes his face with cold water. On the way back he stops outside Vicky’s room and listens. Not a single noise can be heard from inside, so she’s most likely asleep. Chris goes back to his room and waits for another five minutes, which appear to be five hours. Then he sneaks out and shuts the door to his room. The snapping sound of the lock sounds louder than a gunshot in the silence of the night and for a moment, Chris remains frozen to the spot. Nothing happens. _This is stupid_ , he thinks. _I feel like an intruder in my own bloody house._

He carefully opens the door to Neil’s room. Neil is already in bed. When Chris opens the door, he sits up, smiles and lifts the duvet up, so that Chris can lie next to him. As soon as Chris has made himself sort of comfortable, Neil kisses him, and the way he does it clearly indicates that he wants more. Chris’s drunken mind tells him that he shouldn’t give a shit, but the last bit of common sense inside him realises that he’s only one step from being carried away completely.

“Neil, stop,“ he gasps. “I won’t be able to stop anymore in a second.“

“I know.“ Neil is a bit out of breath. “It’ll be a long time until Saturday.“

Chris chuckles. “You’ll be left to your own devices for a few days, I’m afraid.“

“Well, I’ll be thinking of you and your…devices.“ 

They both laugh. Chris pulls Neil closer to him. 

“We have to sleep now,“ he says. “We’ll have to be at the train station by quarter past ten.“ 

Neil nods. His head rests on Chris’s chest. “You know,“ he says. “All the time we were on this tower, I wanted to kiss you.“

“Oh.“ Chris feels his heart warming up when he hears Neil’s words. 

“Yeah. Of all these people there, you were the sexiest.“ Neil sounds decidedly sleepy and his voice slurs even more now, and Chris guesses that he doesn't even know himself what he’s talking about. He wonders if that’s how he sounded when he told Neil he loved him, months ago. “It’s the truth. You’re one sexy Northerner.“ Neil mumbles the last words into Chris’s ear and Chris doesn't reply anymore. He’s pretty sure that Neil won’t remember anything in the morning. He breathes a kiss on Neil’s shoulder and when he closes his eyes, his lips are still touching Neil’s skin.


	12. 12.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris returns to London and there's something he needs to tell Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, buckle up folks for tonights episode of _Rent_! Get yourself comfortable there in front of your screen, grab a hot drink and something for nibbling and watch things tensing up. What's going to happen when Chris returns to London? Is Neil going to be as chill and laid-back? And which role does Vicky play in this? Find out after just one commercial!
> 
> _Have you got sensitive teeth? Ever experienced pain after eating some hot or cold food? Like your favourite sandwich, stuffed with fresh chips? Sensodyne Pronamel can help. Recommended by dentists and Chris Lowe._
> 
> Welcome back folks. But before we finally continue, here's our prize question of today! If you have the answer, please ring 020-69-RENT. Or just leave a comment.  
> What kind of toothbrush does Neil use?  
> a) Electric  
> b) Manual  
> c) Toothbrushes only got invented in the late 90s in England and Neil isn't too fond of this modern technology.

Chris wakes up early. He sneaks out of the room before Neil wakes up, takes a shower and sits in the kitchen for a while, until he finally hears Neil on the stairs. 

“Morning.“ Neil yawns. He looks worn out. 

“Hey.“ Chris smiles when he sees Neil. “Do you want some toast?“

Neil nods and sits down at the kitchen table. “Jesus,“ he says. “I haven't felt so hungover in ages. How many drinks did I have?“

“I don’t really know. But you can sleep on the train,“ Chris says and puts two slices of toast into the toaster. The thought of Neil going back to London without him makes him feel a bit gloomy. 

“I will.“ Neil yawns again. “You’re coming back Friday, right?“

“Saturday.“

“I’ll pick you up.“ Neil smiles. “Honestly, I would like to stay for a few more days.“

They eat their breakfast and when they’re done, Neil goes back upstairs to pack his bag. Chris remains in the kitchen and he feels more upset than he wants to feel. Wouldn't it be nice to continue like this? Apart from sneaking from one room into the other in the dead of night, that’s ridiculous, really. In his head, Chris imagines several scenarios in which they come to visit again, but this time, he’d introduce Neil as his boyfriend. And they would sleep together in his room, and nobody would even question it. 

_How do you put up with my idiot brother_ , Vicky would say to Neil. And his father would say something like _Clever move, young man. Have yerself a mister instead of a missus. But lemme know if he gives ye any trouble._ And his mother would probably be all over the moon and try to take Neil to her book club. Chris smiles to himself. Maybe this will never be their reality. But it’s a nice thought. 

Chris’s parents urge Neil to come back when he says good-bye and Mrs. Lowe especially keeps on insisting that he needs to visit again. Chris’s father shakes Neil’s hand and and gives him an approving nod, his mother almost gives Neil a hug, but then only puts her hand on his shoulder and wishes him a safe journey. Neil promises it won’t be the last time they see each other, and he sounds like he means it. 

Chris takes the car to drive Neil to the train station. He’s relieved his mother didn't accompany them. He can’t shake off the gloominess that has crept into his chest and he wants to be alone with Neil before he leaves. On the way to the station they don’t talk much, but Chris feels Neil’s eyes on him every now and then. 

Chris parks the car and follows Neil to the platform. Neither of them really knows what to say to each other before the train arrives and they give each other a clumsy hug, careful to let go again before it exceeds the socially acceptable time. 

“Right then, I’ll see you Saturday,“ Chris says when the train comes to a halt. 

“You will,“ Neil answers and his smile evolves to a grin. “I hope you don’t have any plans for Sunday. I can’t promise you’ll get a lot of sleep. Take care, Chrissy.“ And with these words, he picks up his bag, winks and gets on the train, leaving Chris completely thunderstruck. 

Chris stays at the platform until the train has left. On the way home, a strange feeling comes over him. What if this lightness, this easiness between them will stay in Blackpool? What if Neil’s London persona will be more cold again, less carefree? When he parks the car in the driveway of his house, he sits there for a moment and sighs. Whatever happens, nobody can take these two days from them. And they’ve shown him that Neil can be the person he was during their stay - maybe he just needs a little help to be the same person in London.

_________

The days go by faster than Chris would have thought, except for Saturday, which seems to be eternal. After he’s dropped Neil off at the train station, Chris doesn't know what to do and he doesn't feel like going home either, in case anyone wants to ask him any uncomfortable questions. But there is nowhere else to go. When he gets home, nobody asks him anything, though, and he spends most of the day on his own.

Within the next few days, Chris arranges to see some friends from school and he considers talking to them about Neil, but he doesn’t. Partly because he doesn't know how to, then because he’s sure that Neil wouldn't be overjoyed if he knew that Chris talked to his friends about him, and also because it feels out of inappropriate. He’s used to his friends’ ramblings about their girlfriends, about their first shags, about the size of their girlfriends’ breasts. Telling them that he’s been sleeping with another man for two months now seems out of place. So he keeps it to himself. 

On Friday evening, while Chris is packing his bag, someone knocks on the door to his room. It takes him a moment until he answers - he’s not expecting anyone and he’s been revelling in the memories of the weekend with Neil. 

“Yeah?“

It’s Vicky. She enters the room and shuts the door behind her again.

“What’ye want?“ Chris asks. 

Vicky shrugs her shoulders and sits down on Chris’s bed. “Checkin’ on ye.“

“I’m fine.“

“Quite a big thing to bring yer flatmate to yer parents’ house.“ Vicky talks casually, as if she was asking Chris to hang up the laundry. “Innit?“

“Don’t you have anything to do?“ Chris asks. “Like painting your fingernails?“

“He’s attractive, Neil, isn't he.“ Vicky looks at him as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

“Maybe. I wouldn't know.“

“Course he is. Tall. Nice hair. Those blue eyes.“

Chris looks up and sees Vicky glancing at him. “D’you fancy him or what?“ 

“Ew, no. C’mon, he’s like thirty.“ She focuses on her fingers and begins to scrape some old nail polish off. “But I think you do.“

Chris bites his tongue. He’s not expected this. “Don’t be silly,“ he says. 

Vicky remains silent for a while and watches Chris as he puts his clothes into his suitcase. 

“I’ve seen you looking at him,“ she says eventually. Chris turns towards her and when he does, Vicky indicates a smile. “I’m not stupid. I know that expression when people fancy someone. My friend Katie stares at blokes like that all the time.“ Chris doesn't answer. Maybe he should have known - his parents, well, that wasn’t a problem. His mother treats Neil the same way as she’s treated all his mates from school whenever one of them came over, and his father can be pretty blind when it comes to these things. But Vicky is a smart girl, and she knows Chris very well. 

“It’s OK,“ Vicky says. “I won’t tell anyone.“ 

“Vicky…“ Chris sighs. Then he thinks that this may be a chance as well. Vicky wouldn't turn against him, he can’t imagine she would. Maybe she could be the one person he can talk to. And there’s no point in denying it now anyway. 

“He seems decent.“ Her mouth is twitching. “Smart.“

Chris can feel a bright smile building up on his face and he can’t do anything against it. Hearing Vicky saying something nice about Neil makes him feel proud. “Yeah,“ he says. “He’s got the brains.“ 

“Sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to be rude. But I thought he’d probably not be interested in the ramblings of a teenage girl. That’s why I didn’t talk to him.“

“Probably not, but he wouldn't have told you that.“

“I had no idea you were into blokes, man.“ Vicky stretches herself out on Chris’s bed. 

“I ain’t. I mean, I dunno. He’s been the only one so far.“ It’s the first time Chris actually verbalises that he’s into Neil. And it doesn't feel bad. 

“How long?“

“Since February.“ Chris’s heart is still beating a lot faster than it’s supposed to, but he feels an enormous wave of relief as well. To say all these things aloud is freeing. And it makes them more real. There’s even a pinch of pride. The fact that Neil, this intelligent, handsome and kind man has decided to ( _Yeah, to what?_ he hears the voice of the little devil. _Date? Have sex with? Fancy?_ ) spend more time with Chris than with anyone else makes him proud and he wants to tell Vicky more about him, everything, he wants to tell her all the things he likes about Neil. _Maybe another day_ , he thinks. 

“You’re staying in London because of him, right?“

“No. I dunno. Does it matter?“

“Is he committed to you?“

“What?“

“Because my friend, Diane, she had this guy. And she was about to move to Portsmouth for him, because he’s studying there now. So she gets herself all set up and ready to leave. Turns out he’s banging another girl in Portsmouth already.“

Chris frowns. 

“What I’m sayin’,“ Vicky continues, “before turning yer whole life ‘round. Make sure he’s worth it. And that he wants you there.“

“Shouldn’t I be the one givin’ you some advice on how to date someone?“

Vicky laughs. “Oh God, Chris. I’ve been dating blokes for two years. This is the first time I see you with someone. Who’s more experienced here, what’ye think?“

Chris tries to ignore the thought of his baby sister dating blokes since she was fourteen. “You can’t tell mum and dad.“ 

“I said, I won’t say anything, didn’t I.“ Vicky rolls her eyes. “You can do that yourself one day. Am I the only one who knows now?“

Chris nods.

“Sweet.“ Vicky gets up. “Unbelievable that you didn't trust me enough to tell me, though,“ she says, but she says it with a smile. “I’ve had to come all the way over here and squeeze the information outta ye.“ She stops at the door, her hand on the handle. “Just so you know. I don’t mind. But please spare me the details, you’re me brother, and I wanna believe you _don't_ have sex. With _anyone. Ever._ G’night.“ And with these words she leaves the room and shuts the door behind her. Chris needs a few minutes to sort himself out again. He still hasn't said this one word, but is there really any doubt left? But then, he asks himself again how one is to determine what it really is that creates attraction between two people. It certainly isn’t their genitals. Does it already make him gay to have a crush on a man? It’s the way Neil smiles with his entire face, that made him fall for him. The way he gets lost in himself when he plays the guitar. The way he keeps taking his glasses off to polish them. He does it more often when he gets nervous, Chris has noticed that. Then there is the way he touches him. Kisses him. Chris shudders from the pure thought of it.

________

They leave around midday on Saturday. His mother, who’s driven him to the station, wishes him the best of luck for the next months and asks him to bring Neil again for his next visit. Then Chris gets on the train and leaves Blackpool behind. He’s missed Neil and he’s excited to go back to London, but he’s nervous, too. The days in Blackpool with Neil were too perfect. Something that perfect can’t be permanent, surely.

Neil picks him up at the train station and Chris can’t stop himself from grinning like a lovesick teenager when he sees him. When they hug each other, he inhales deeply and breathes in Neil’s scent. It makes him feel home. 

“Hey, sexy Northerner,“ Neil whispers right next to Chris’s ear and it makes every single hair on his body stand up. He’d thought that Neil couldn’t remember having called him a sexy Northerner in his delirious state, after their night out. It feels reassuring to hear it - it’s a part of their Blackpool time, and it’s still there. 

“I thought we could eat at home tonight,“ Neil says on their way out of the train station. “Actually, I’ve made something.“

“Oh?“ 

“You’ll see.“ Neil smiles. And then something interesting happens. They take a taxi, and once they’ve put Chris’s suitcase in the boot, Neil opens the car door for Chris and shuts it behind him, before he gets in on the other side and sits down next to Chris, who can’t even comprehend what is happening. Nobody has ever opened a door for him before, and he feels flattered, surprised, aroused, amongst all sorts of other things. 

His excitement level rises when the car stops. Neil pays and they make their way to the flat. On the way upstairs they don’t talk, too high is the anticipation of entering the safe zone of their flat, where feelings and lust won’t need to be held back anymore. Neil unlocks the door and lets Chris enter with his suitcase, before he shuts the door behind them. Chris turns around once he’s heard the door being shut and their eyes meet.

“C’mere,“ he says. It’s a command. Usually it’s Neil who’d say things like that. But Chris can’t stand another second without Neil’s lips on his own. 

When Neil kisses him, Chris moans loudly. All the built-up tension is finally released and there is no holding back. Neil grabs his shoulders and presses Chris against the wall, his thigh pushed between Chris’s legs. It doesn't take long and their coats and shirts are scattered over the floor, and they haven't even left the hallway yet. The worst part is taking their shoes off and Chris almost falls over while he’s standing on one leg, trying to pull his sneaker off of his foot. 

“You wanna…“ Neil points in the direction of the bedroom. 

“Yeah.“

Within split-seconds, they’ve taken the rest of their clothes off. There isn’t time for romantically undressing each other, and as soon as all the useless pieces of fabric are gone, Neil pulls Chris onto the bed and on top of himself. The feeling of Neil’s skin against his own is overwhelming and for a moment, Chris worries that he will come before Neil even gets a chance to touch him. He bends down and kisses Neil again, who’s put his hands around Chris’s waist, pushing him against himself. 

Neil moans loudly when Chris begins to move his pelvis. They’ve done this before - it’s not the easiest of all things and it has taken them a few attempts to figure out how it works best for them, but ever since, it’s become one of their favourite things to do. And the sensation of reaching the climax through rubbing their naked bodies against each other overwhelms Chris every single time. With time, his multi-tasking skills have improved, and while he’s grinding against Neil, he’s kissing his neck at the same time. He knows that the combination of these two things drives Neil absolutely nuts. He can tell by Neil’s fingernails scratching his back, his voice getting higher and higher and the touch of pink on his cheeks. 

“Chris- ah-“ Neil rises up a bit, his face cradled in the crook of Chris’s neck, and he comes. Chris can feel Neil’s legs trembling underneath him. When the last of his orgasmic waves has abated, Neil shoves his hand between Chris’s legs and now Chris can’t hold himself back anymore either. He feels drained once it’s over and he collapses on top of Neil, unable to move. 

“I thought we’d wait until after dinner,“ Neil says, with a sleepy voice. “Well, I was wrong.“

“I’m definitely hungry now, though,“ Chris answers. He rolls over and Neil reaches out to the bedside table to pick up some tissues. He hands one to Chris and they briefly clean themselves up. 

“What did ye make?“ Chris asks. 

“Lasagna. It’s basically ready, just need to add the cheese and put it back in the oven for ten minutes or so.“

“You made lasagna?“

“Yes! I actually used a recipe from this home and garden book I edited years ago. It’s a good recipe.“

“I’m impressed.“ Chris kisses Neil on the cheek. “Well, if it takes ten minutes anyway, I’ll have a quick shower.“

“Yeah, good idea.“ Neil looks down on himself. “I wish this wasn’t quite so messy every time.“

While Chris is in the shower, Neil puts the lasagna back in the oven, then he joins Chris. They don’t often shower together, mainly because it usually leaves a flood in the bathroom (which Neil complains about every time), in addition to the fact that there isn’t enough room for two people under the water jet (which will make Neil complain about getting cold). But today it seems impossible for both of them to keep their hands off of each other. They’re in a happy, joyful state of mind, giggling with each other and exchanging quick yet tender kisses whenever there’s a chance. Chris cannot recall having seen Neil like this before, and it makes the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. 

They get dressed again, which means they put on some t-shirts and boxer shorts, and Chris keeps thinking that Neil’s never looked more handsome. Maybe it’s the relaxed atmosphere - usually, Neil never changes into more comfortable clothes at home until it’s time to go to bed, while Chris quite often wears tracksuit trousers. Most definitely, Neil wouldn’t have dinner in his boxer shorts. Now, when they sit down, Chris is totally charmed by Neil in his Beatles t-shirt and striped shorts. No designer suit in the whole world could have been sexier. 

Neil presents himself as a true gentleman again and it leaves Chris speechless. He pours in the wine for him and gets the baking tray out of the oven, arranges the pasta on two plates and carries them over to the table like a waiter. The lasagna turns out amazing. 

“Thank you,“ Chris says. “For this. It must have been a lot of effort.“

“Not so much. I thought it would be nice to be here, rather than in a restaurant. And as it’s turned out, I think that was a good idea.“ Neil’s smile is enticing and Chris smiles back. How much better can things possibly become? For a moment, he considers telling Neil about his conversation with Vicky, but then he decides to wait with that one. This evening is for them and nothing else.

They go back to bed after dinner, but this time, they’re not in a rush. For a while, all they do is lie there, touching and kissing each other, Neil tells Chris what happened at work since he left Blackpool and Chris talks about what he did for the rest of the week, until their touches slowly become more sensual and their kisses more demanding. Later, when they’re about to fall asleep, they’re curled up closely, one of Neil’s legs is still between Chris’s legs, their arms wrapped around each other tightly. Things are good.

________

The first two weeks of May race past. Chris soon learns that the new project is a lot more challenging for him and that warehouses may be less interesting than a staircase, but they require a lot of planning. He’s working fewer hours, but he’s in turn given more tasks, which means more responsibility. But it offers him a great chance to learn and by the time the first week is over, all his doubts are off the table. Staying in London was the right decision, he’s absolutely sure about that now.

He walks around with a constant smile on his face and the world seems to smile back. He and Neil go for walks in St James Park or Regents Park sometimes, and all the flowers on the meadows and in the flower beds blossom, filling the air with a sweet, beguiling scent. One particularly warm afternoon, they even lie down on one of the meadows, right on the grass, and it surprises Chris that Neil isn’t worried about grass stains on his shirt. They lie there and watch the world go by and listen to the songs of the birds. 

It’s that same day Chris decides to tell Neil about Vicky. After their walk they go to a restaurant for dinner and Chris thinks that a restaurant might be a good place for this conversation. If Neil isn’t delighted to hear it, he can’t really get angry in a public place. At least his good manners wouldn't allow him to. And so, after they’ve ordered, Chris tries to bring the topic up. 

“Oh, by the way,“ he says. The silliest way to start a conversation. “Vicky likes you.“

“Does she? Well, I guess I like her too, but I hardly spoke to her, so…“

“Well, she’s a teenager. And she said she didn’t really know what to say to you.“

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have a bad impression of her. I’m sure she’s nice.“ Neil sips his wine. 

Chris takes a deep breath. “She knows,“ he says, trying to keep his voice as serious and firm as possible. 

Neil squints. “She knows _what_?“

Chris sighs. He knows that Neil knows exactly what he means, but he wants him to say it. It’s something he does quite often - even if he already knows something, he’ll make Chris pronounce it. And by doing so, he also forces Chris to decide which term he’s going to use for them.

“She knows that we’re not just friends who share a flat.“

Neil tilts his head a bit. “I told you not to tell anyone.“ There’s a rebuking undertone in his voice. 

“I didn't. She figured it out herself.“

Neil takes another sip of his drink and then he’s the one taking a deep breath. “So what exactly did she figure out?“

“She said she noticed the way I look at you.“

“Did you tell her we’re a couple or something?“

Chris shakes his head. “No. I didn’t tell her anything, really. What’s there to tell. We’ve never defined what we are, so I don’t even know if we’re… _anything_.“

Neil nods slowly. “She’s not going to gossip, is she?“ He’s masterfully ignoring the latter part of Chris’s sentence. 

“No. No, of course not.“

“And what else did she say?“

“She doesn't mind at all, as long as I don’t bother her with details. She detests the pure thought of me having sex.“

“Well,“ Neil says, frowning, “I guess we can’t do anything about it.“

Chris hesitates, then he decides to go another step forward. “We could just as well tell my mum, too,“ he says. “She _adores_ you.“

“Chris…“ Neil leans forward and lowers his voice. “Why is this important to you all of a sudden? I thought we talked about this.“

“It’s not-“ Chris pauses again. He doesn't know what’s happening. The weird feeling is back inside him, the one he still can’t quite evaluate. A nervousness, gnawing on his insides. 

“See,“ Neil says. “I like your mum. And your dad, I really do. But I think they may have got something else in mind for you than _this_.“ He quickly jerks his index finger at Chris and then at himself. 

“What is so bad about _this_ then?“

“Nothing. I think it’s great. But does anyone need to know? Do you want to tell your parents that you moved in with me and then ended up in my bed? It’s not that I’ve been courting you. They think of me as a gentleman, but they probably wouldn't think that anymore if they hear I seduced their son to live a life of debauchery.“

“You’re really camping it up now.“

“And what do you think is going to happen next?“ Neil’s not done yet. “That we get married one day and buy a house together? The whole happily-ever-after thing? I think neither of us is very likely to get pregnant, so maybe we adopt a puppy instead.“

“You’re talking complete rubbish,“ Chris snaps. 

“I’m sorry, Chris, but this is just-“ In that moment the waiter appears with their food. Neil gives him a fake smile and says: “Thank you.“ He waits until the waiter’s left again, then he says: “You know none of these things are gonna happen.“

Chris says nothing. They eat and remain silent for a while. “And how come you know exactly what is going to happen?“ Chris asks eventually. Neil glimpses at him, but he doesn't answer. “And who says I would even want to marry you,“ Chris carries on, sarcastically. “You and your obsession with ironing.“ Chris hasn't planned to make it sound funny, but there is a little chuckle from Neil. For some reason, it makes Chris sad to hear it. Maybe because it sounds so loveable. 

“I thought we’d do easy,“ Neil says, his eyes fixed on his plate. “Let’s not make it un-easy again. Please.“

“So you wanna hide forever?“

Now Neil looks up. “It’s not about me wanting to hide, Chris. But can’t we enjoy each other’s company without telling the whole world? Can’t we enjoy it for what it is?“ 

“And what is it then? Just to make sure we’re on the same page here.“ 

“Please, don’t make this complicated now. Why does everything has to have a label?“

“That’s not what I-“ But then he stops. Most likely he won’t get any sensible answer from Neil now anyway. So he looks down and says: “OK. Forget about it.“

For the rest of the evening, the atmosphere remains tense and Chris promises himself that he won't bring this topic up again. They’re not dating. And they’re not a couple. Neil’s made that clear again. Back home, he’s not even sure if Neil wants him in his bed now or not. What a disaster. 

While Neil is in the bathroom, Chris sits down on the sofa and waits. Maybe he’s mistaken this excitement he’s experienced after their trip with something else, maybe he’s been too enthusiastic about it all. A single wonderful day at the beach doesn't make them a couple. How can one tell love apart from other feelings anyway? Where does the sexual attraction end and the love begin?

Neil returns and stops in the doorway for a second. Then he comes over and sits down on the sofa next to Chris, his head propped up in his hands. He sighs.

“I never asked for it,“ he says. It sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to Chris. “I haven't chosen to be…you know. It’s something you can’t choose. At school they try to tell you what’s right or wrong, and basically everything which isn't marriage and a devoted family life is wrong. Everything you do is wrong. A sin. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced something like a Catholic school, but it does leave a mark.“ He pauses. Chris doesn't say anything. He wants to wait for Neil to continue on his own accord. 

“When I was 21, I told some of my friends that I was seeing a guy. Close friends. Enlightened people, so I thought. They turned it into a joke. ‘Oh, of course Neil’s gay.’ They were laughing about it. About me. As if they were all so much smarter than me because they’d known for ages that I was gay. What else could you expect from a guy who’s interested in theatre and literature and with a voice like mine.“

“What happened then?“

Neil chuckles sarcastically. “Well. I stopped talking to these people. And I dated women.“ 

“I’m sorry.“

“So now you know.“ Neil looks at Chris. “Are you coming to bed now?“ 

When they lie in bed and Chris attempts to kiss Neil, he can feel that Neil is not really with him, and the kiss comes to a halt. For a while they lie there quietly and Chris is stroking Neil’s shoulder, to maintain the physical contact. Then Neil turns around and away from him, and Chris pulls his hand back. It takes him a long time until he finally falls asleep.


	13. 13.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has some exciting news and another fateful meeting takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. OH. MY. This was by far the longest it has ever taken me to upload a new part, but believe me, I haven't forgotten about it. I was mainly focusing on some other projects (one of them was BIRTHDAY BOY, which coffeecakelatte and I wrote in tandem - check it out if you haven't already!), on my work and I had also got a bit stuck. BUT. I had great help once again, and I got unstuck. So, you know what you gotta do - grab that cuppa, that lager or that glass of Merlot, get comfy an-  
> [THE AUTHOR'S NOTES WILL CONTINUE AFTER ONLY ONE COMMERCIAL]
> 
> _Neil: Hey. What're you eating?  
>  Chris: Oh, just a sandwich.  
> Neil: With CHIPS on it?!  
> Chris: Yeah! Y'know, I've been feeling so moody and sleepy recently, dunno if you noticed-  
> Neil: I DID...  
> Chris: -and since I've changed my diet, I finally have got more energy! It's super simple: chips and tomato ketchup on white Mother's Pride bread with margarine.  
> Neil: It looks awful.  
> Chris: *with a smile to the camera* What are you waiting for? I know YOU wanna try it. ;)  
> Neil: Please get me outta here. _
> 
> -d enjoy the next chapter of RENT!
> 
> A serious side note:  
> Apparently, the original Pet Shop Boys were three and not two. My bad. Maybe one of them is currently on holiday. I don't know their names, so I gave them some - bear in mind though that even though they're based on real people, these characters are mainly fictional.

The awkward tension between them doesn’t go away overnight. Chris knows immediately that it’s still there when he wakes up. He gets up, showers and sits in the kitchen with a cup of coffee until Neil appears. He gives Chris a half-hearted smile, then pours coffee for himself into a mug and remains with his back turned towards Chris, coffee in one hand, the other loosely propped up on the kitchen counter. 

Chris decides that he’s had enough of this stupid behaviour. He hates it when things are disharmonious, like a piano which isn’t in tune. It makes him nervous and he can’t stand it (maybe because he’s a Libra, but who believes in that, right?). He walks over to Neil, puts his arms around him from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder. Neil takes a deep breath. Then Chris feels Neil’s hand on his own hands. And eventually Neil turns around and returns the hug. He nestles his head between Chris’s head and shoulder and holds him closely, his hands clenching into the fabric of Chris’s t-shirt, as if he was afraid Chris would disappear if he let him go. 

They don’t say anything, but they both understand what the hug means: _Can we please stop acting awkward around each other now? Because this awkwardness is EXHAUSTING._ When they let go, they both smile.

Within the next few days, everything goes back to normal, as if the argument ( _Was that even a real argument?_ Chris wonders. _Were we actually fighting? Or do I just have to get used to Neil being like this?_ ) had never happened. As Chris’s boss has cut down his hours and reduced him to three days a week, Chris spends quite some time on his own, and he uses the spare time to work on some more music or stroll through London and explore some of the parts he hasn’t seen yet. He’s started to look for a second job, too, something for the two days he doesn't spend at the office. But without any success so far.

Slowly but surely, things go back to how they were before their trip to Blackpool. Neil still doesn’t show a lot of affection towards Chris, until it’s time to go to bed. But Chris has found out that Neil doesn’t seem to mind him being affectionate, as long as they’re alone, and quite often he’ll hug or kiss Neil, just to provoke a reaction. Sometimes Neil goes along with his actions, sometimes he merely smiles at him and carries on with whatever he’s been doing. Chris is not willing to give up his hope that Neil’s Blackpool persona will show up again, though-the man who’s kissed him in his old bedroom and on a piano stool, who shared his cake with him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear at the train station. But for now, Chris has made his peace with the way things are. Maybe Neil’s right - maybe some things don’t need a label. Some people, like Vicky, may see it anyway, without them saying anything. So why not let things slide and see what happens. And so time moves on, until Chris begins to forget that it had ever been different or that anything could ever change. Until one day in early June, a warm day that already feels a lot like summer. 

“Guess what,“ Neil says when he comes home from work. He has a bright grin on his face. 

“You’ve won the lottery?“ Chris frowns. “No, wait. That one restaurant in Kensington, the one where they had these awesome little pie-thingies, has it reopened?“

“No, that’s still closed. God bless those pies. I’ll never forget them.“

“It’s tragic. But anyway, what’s the news?“

“Someone from work knows someone who owns a little studio in Camden. And he gave me his phone number.“

Chris doesn't completely understand what Neil’s telling him. “A studio? As in a recording studio?“

“Yes! It’s quite small I think, but it’s better than my living room.“

“Oh, I…I mean, wow.“ The thought of going to an actual studio is intriguing, but it’s also slightly intimidating. Chris has not really thought they would ever do more than mess around with the synth in Neil’s living room. They’ve joked about their musical career, yes - but that was a joke, right? 

“You don’t sound overly impressed,“ Neil says, with a hunch of disappointment. 

“No, no, no, that’s amazing,“ Chris replies. “I just- I didn’t expect this. So, we could record something, like, properly?“

“Yeah, we could make a little demo. Just play around. Try a few things.“ Neil’s eyes are sparkling and the excitement and enthusiasm in them warm Chris’s heart. He knows that making an actual record is something Neil’s been wanting to do for a long time. To himself, fame or success don't mean anything. But Neil, he means a lot to him, if not everything. And if this means a lot to Neil, it means something to him, too. 

“How about Friday after I finish work? We could go have a look. I could ring him right now.“ 

Chris smiles. “I’m in.“ 

Neil smiles back and the way he does makes Chris weak in the knees. His whole face lights up and his cheeks go round and pink, it makes him look like a young boy in a sweet shop. “Splendid! _The Boys from the King’s Road_ are gonna be a huge success, I tell you.“

“We really have to talk about the name thing again, though.“

“We will.“ Neil walks over to Chris and puts his arms around him, catching Chris completely off guard. Chris wonders if it’s the anticipation that has caused this sudden affection, but wherever it comes from, it feels good and reassuring. 

“Let’s write that song they’ll play at Heaven,“ Neil says with a low voice as he begins to kiss Chris’s neck. “I know you can do that. Write something for me, Chris.“  
Chris pulls Neil closer, grasping his butt, and their eyes meet. “Sing for me first.“

________

The studio is a lot smaller than Chris would have imagined it: a teeny-tiny room without windows inside a shabby building in Camden town. There is an even smaller kitchen next to it and a “microscopic“ bathroom, as Neil puts it, and he refuses to use it, due to his claustrophobia. But the studio itself accommodates everything one might need: two synthesisers, a lot bigger and more functional than Neil’s Korg MF10, two electric guitars, a sound mixer, a microphone and all the other equipment one needs to make a record. On top of that there are numerous other instruments and things one could make a noise with, like cowbells. Neil is over the moon. After a short chat with the owner, it’s a done deal. They can use it almost every evening on workdays after 8 pm, only on the weekends they have to call in advance as other people are using it, too. And from that day on, their musical experiments are taken to a whole new level.

With the new equipment they’re suddenly able to produce music that actually sounds like music, not like someone tapping the bass line on the table next to the synthesiser with his fingers (because that’s exactly what Chris has been doing). And the more often they go, the more excited Chris gets about it, too. They spend hours playing around with the synths, trying out all the things they can do, finding sound effects they like and others which sound ghastly. When they leave, thrilled and aroused from all the mental stimulation, they’ll often stop at a bar and have a drink to settle themselves down again. On other days, though, when the tension is too high, they go straight home.

Chris notices that there seems to be a connection between their musical progress and their sex. On those days when they’ve been to the studio, it’s often more fierce and Neil’s dominant side stands out more than on days they’ve spent at home. Once, when they felt particularly exhilarated and turned up, they didn’t even make it to the bedroom; Neil made Chris sit on his desk and took him right there. They felt slightly indignant afterwards, overwhelmed by how their lust had subdued them, and for a while they were sitting there, giggling and shyly peeking at each other. Chris doesn’t mind this side effect, though. Not at all. And he’s pretty sure Neil doesn't mind it either. 

But it’s not only that. The other thing Chris finds out relatively quickly is something he’s always suspected: it is not the easiest thing in the world to work with Neil. Quite often, he has a certain idea about how he wants something to be, and he won’t have it any other way. This had become obvious already while working on some songs in the living room, but in the studio, Neil takes the whole thing a lot more serious, to the point where it begins to annoy Chris. Yes, it’s exciting and fun, but they don’t have deadlines, there’s literally nobody waiting for them to actually produce something of high quality, so there’s no reason to get stressed over it. 

“The bass line is way too dominant,“ Neil says one evening, a long time after they’ve left the studio. They’re in the bar in Islington again for a nightcap and Chris had thought the case with the bass-line was closed. They’ve already argued about it earlier. 

“No. It’s not.“ Chris has almost emptied his first pint. 

“Yes it is. You can’t even hear the other bit you’re playing.“

“That’s the whole idea behind it,“ Chris answers. “The song’s supposed to be bass-heavy.“

“I think it’d be a lot better if it was more melodic.“ 

“We tried that, didn’t we, and we decided the bass line should be more paramount.“ _Paramount_ , he thinks after saying it. One of those Neil-words that has sneaked into his vocabulary. _Now who’s got the brains here._

“Yeah, but retrospectively, I think we were wrong.“ Neil sips his last bit of red wine and puts the empty glass on the counter. “Would you just order me another one, I’ll be back in a minute.“ And he walks away. 

Chris rolls his eyes, but then he orders another glass of wine and a pint of lager for himself, when suddenly someone is speaking to him.  
“Chris? Is that you?“

Chris turns round. There are two blokes, each of them holding a drink, shyly smiling at him. He recognises them, they are regulars at this bar and he’s chatted to them before, even though the last time is probably months ago. They’re two of those brief acquaintances, people you see on the weekends because you happen to hang out at the same bar, but without ever getting to know them properly.

“Oh, hi!“ Chris combs through the deepest corners of his memories, trying to remember their names. One of them begins with an S, something like Seth, or Sage, Sel, Sol, Son… “You’re Sam, right?“

The bloke seems thrilled to hear that Chris remembers his name. “Yeah,“ he says. “Good to see you!“

“We haven’t seen you in ages,“ the other one says. Chris can’t think of his name for the life of him. “You used to come here every weekend, didn’t you!“ 

“Oh, yeah, I…I’ve been quite busy, recently, and erm…“ Chris doesn't know what to say, so instead he just grins apologetically. 

“No worries,“ the one who’s not Sam says. “But we saw you and thought we gotta say Hi. Who’s the one who was with you? He looked a bit tight-lipped, is he your boss?“

Chris has to suppress a laugh. “No, he’s, erm, my roommate,“ he says and clears his throat. “We’ve been here before, but not so often on Fridays.“ Chris feels his throat drying up and he sips his beer. _We. We’ve been here._ Does that sound as if they were an item? And even more important - is he trying to make it sound that way on purpose?

“We didn't mean to interrupt your discussion,“Sam says, followed by a low cackle. “But we also had no idea that bass-lines could be so contentious. Sorry, we heard the last bit of your conversation when we came over.“ 

“Erm, yeah,“ Chris says. He doesn’t really know what to say. “We, erm, I mean, it wasn’t really important.“

“Your friend certainly didn't sound like it wasn't important. And he was quite convinced that he was right, wasn’t he.“ Sam chuckles. _We must have made quite an impression_ , Chris thinks. 

“Oh, it was just-“ 

Before he can finish the sentence, Neil returns, eyeing the two curiously. “I leave you for five minutes and you’re having a party without me,“ he quips with a subtle wink in Chris’s direction, before he picks up his drink from the counter. Chris realises that Neil has positioned himself very close to him, extremely close, actually, a lot closer than before he left. Their shoulders are touching, that’s how close he is. Neil turns towards the two chaps. “ _Bon soir_ , gentlemen.“ 

They both look a bit confused for a second. “Hi,“ Sam says then. “We know Chris from when he used to come here more often.“

“And now we’re curious who’s going to win the argument about the bass-line,“ the other one adds. “Oh, by the way, I’m Joe. George really, but nobody calls me that. And this is Sam.“ _Phew_ , Chris thinks. _Now I can just pretend I never actually forgot his name at all_. 

“Nice to meet you,“ Neil says, then he introduces himself. “Did he already tell you that with such a dominant bass everything else becomes totally pointless? I mean, why even bother, all you can hear is the bass anyway.“ 

And for the next fifteen minutes (or maybe more), Neil tells them all about the studio, their attempts on making a record and how they started in his living room. Chris knows that Neil is enthralled to have found someone who’s willing to listen to him rambling about it. Chris doesn't say a lot himself, but he keeps glimpsing at Neil, whose face is glowing. Chris senses a feeling of pride - he quite often feels that way when he’s somewhere with Neil and they happen to talk to strangers. These other people must notice how charismatic Neil is, how smart and handsome. And he, Chris, is the one who’s going to go home with him. 

“So, what are you two doing, anyway?“ Neil asks, when he’s done talking. 

“We work in a pet shop,“ Sam says. “Over in Ealing.“

“Yeah,“ Joe adds. “We’re the Pet Shop Boys.“

“Now that’s unique,“ Neil says. “Who came up with that?“

“Friends of ours. We’ve been called that for years. We started working there part-time when we went to university, and now we still work there. Have you got any pets?“

“No, but I’ve always wanted a dog,“ Neil answers. 

“Yeah.“ Chris grins. “A chihuahua.“ 

Neil gives him a nudge with his elbow. “I don’t think they’re actually dogs, are they? They’re the size of guinea pigs.“

They spend the rest of the evening chatting with Sam and Joe, the Pet Shop Boys. Neil seems at ease and in harmony with himself and the world. It’s the closest he’s come to his Blackpool persona ever since they went to the pub there, and it fills Chris with joy to see it. When they’re about to leave, Sam asks if they’ll come to the bar again. 

“We’re basically here every weekend,“ Joe says. “The nightlife in Ealing is…well, it doesn't exist. We’ve also been to Heaven a couple times, you guys been there?“

“Oh, yeah,“ Neil says. “It’s where all the gay musicians hang out, isn't it.“ 

Chris looks at him. Did he just refer to them as gay musicians? He wonders if Neil realised what he said. If so, he doesn't show it. 

“Oh, perfect!“ The Pet Shop Boys seem pleased. “We love Heaven. Maybe we’ll see you guys there next weekend? We’re usually there on Saturdays, sometimes Friday and Saturday.“ 

Chris and Neil exchange a quick look, then they nod. “Yeah, that’d be nice,“ Neil says. “By the way, how’re you getting back? It’s quite a way, isn’t it?“

“Oh, depends where we go,“ Sam says. “Nobody goes home after Heaven, eh?“ His eyebrows twitch meaningfully. “Tonight, we’re taking a cab. Alright you guys, take care, we’ll see you around. It really was lovely to meet you.“ 

On the way to the underground station Chris wonders if he actually got this right - did Sam mean that going to Heaven meant going home with someone? As in chatting someone up for sex? Does that mean they are not straight either? The conversations he’s had with them before were only superficial, so he’s never really thought about it. He knows that the bar in Islington is one of those places where a lot of gay and bisexual hang out, because it’s widely known to be a very tolerant place. But Heaven, that’s a different thing altogether. The other thing he thinks about is that Neil acted really relaxed around them, as if it didn’t matter what they thought about them - but where is the difference between telling two blokes they’ve just met that they’re regulars at Heaven and holding hands in a restaurant? Why is it no problem for Neil to call Chris and himself gay musicians, while the pure thought of telling Chris’s mother the truth terrifies him? Chris doesn't understand. But there seems to be a connection between Neil’s behaviour and their location. Chris has sensed a change in Neil’s behaviour before, as soon as they step into the dark, loud microcosms of the clubs. It’s something in the way he moves, the way he talks and the way he looks at Chris. It’s as if Neil would only fully come to life when they’re at Heaven. 

They do meet the Pet Shop Boys again and Chris senses that a friendship is about to flourish, which is nice; he doesn’t really have friends in London, and these two are not only becoming his friends, they’re becoming their friends. Chris has never met any of Neil’s friends or colleagues, except Darren, and now they have two mutual acquaintances, who are about to become their friends. And they learn more about them - while Sam is actually interested in men, Joe isn’t, but he likes going to Heaven anyway. “People here are a lot nicer than elsewhere,“ he explains. “And even if they find out I’m not into blokes, I just go like _Hey, have you met my friend Sam_ , and everybody’s happy. And the music here’s pretty bloody good.“

What they think about Chris and Neil, though, remains a mystery. Sometimes Chris is sure that they know everything. That they understand what’s going on, that it’s obvious to them, so they don’t feel any need to ask. And he’s happy with that. He often thinks that it must be obvious, anyway. People must notice these things which weren't there before Chris moved into Neil’s bedroom. These subtle glances, the brief touches one could easily miss, a hand on an arm during a conversation or a brush of their shoulders when they walk past each other. The comments they make about each other sometimes, which may or may not make them sound like couple. 

“He left a tea bag in the sink again yesterday,“ Neil would say. “Actually, he promised to do the ironing if it keeps happening. Five tea bags means a new household chore for him.“

“I know, and I’m gonna do it, but not your ties,“ Chris would reply. “You can iron your ties yourself. Can you believe he’s ironing his _ties_?“ And they would both laugh and smile fondly at each other. 

At other times, Chris also wonders what Neil thinks. Does he think they pass as flatmates, or friends? Or doesn't he care at all? On occasions, Chris has let a few personal things slip, so Neil must be OK with it, right? But that’s another conversation, and it’s still strictly off-limits. And so, Neil’s thoughts remain a mystery as well.


	14. 14.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris picks Neil up from work and meets an old acquaintance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my dear men and gentle ladies, you're not hallucinating. It's time for the LAST chapter of Rent (and now you're holding your breath, aren't you?) in 2020. Ha. Got ye. 
> 
> Before we start - I was so pleased to see that you liked my version of the original Pet Shop Boys! And THEY were very pleased, too. They've even agreed to do a little Q&A next time, so if you have any questions for Sam and Joe, please leave them in the comments! And now, relax, grab your drink and that box of biscuits you got for Christmas (you haven't eaten all your Christmas sweets already, have you? In that case, go and make yourself a nice sandwich with chips) and enjoy a new chapter of RENT! 
> 
> p.s. Some serious notes again, because I'm very serious.  
> a) You'll meet some new people here again, but unlike Darren, Eric Watson and Krysia are real people. I don't have a lot of information about them, so these are just my imaginative versions of them. I do know that Krysia was responsible for the offical PSB fan club at some point.  
> b) Darren is, after all, totally fictional.  
> c) There's a rumour that Chris used to come to Neil's office and flirt with his colleagues, which Neil didn't like. This is NOT confirmed though, but it's what this chapter is based on.

All the way through June they keep themselves very busy. When they’re not at work, they’re in the studio and lots of evenings are now being spent in bars or, if it’s a Friday or Saturday, at Heaven. They go to bed late and fall asleep even later, until the unforgiving alarm clock wakes them up in the morning. But it’s astonishingly wholesome and their new lifestyle makes Chris feel alive, in a way he has never really felt before. The work at the office in combination with their work in the studio makes him feel as if he’d finally figured out where he belongs. That and being with Neil. The dream of writing a real song that may be played in a big club looks less than a dream now and more like an actual opportunity. 

Usually they meet in the studio after work, but on those two days when Chris stays at home, they meet at the tube station near Neil’s office. 

“What time are you finishing tomorrow?“ Neil asks one afternoon, looking at his diary. 

“Four o’clock, why?“

“I have to stay a bit longer tomorrow. We have a meeting at three, so it’ll be half past four, five-ish I think.“

“That’s fine, I’ll just wait for you.“

“Or you come pick me up. Don’t you come past my station anyway?“

“Erm, I do,“ Chris says. He’s a bit surprised that Neil wants him to come to his workplace. He’s never been there before. He’d finally meet some of Neil’s colleagues and friends. 

“Then it would be silly if you went straight to Camden, wouldn’t it,“ Neil says. “Just come to the office.“

Chris gulps. “Yeah, OK.“ And it’s a done deal.

________

One day later, when he stands outside the building inside which the editorial department of Smash Hits is located, Chris’s heart is beating fast. This is one part of Neil’s life he’s only heard about, but now he’s about to see the place where Neil spends most of his time, meet the people who see him every day. Who are they going to think he is? What, if anything, has Neil told them?

He takes a deep breath, enters the building and finds himself in a big lobby. White walls, a plant in a corner, grey linoleum floor. On the left he sees a staircase and an elevator, on the right several corridors leading to different destinations. He has no idea where to go. Neil, who asked Chris countless times if he had the right address and if he knew for sure which building it was, really should have given him some directions for _inside_ the building.

“Hey, can I help you?“ 

Chris turns around. A man has appeared behind the reception desk.

“Oh, yeah,“ Chris says, walking over to him. “I’m looking for someone who works at Smash Hits.“

“They’re on the first floor,“ the man answers. “Up those stairs. You can’t miss it.“ 

“Thanks,“ Chris says, relieved, and heads upstairs. He feels waves of relief when he sees the familiar Smash Hits logo on a big glass door, opens it and finds himself on another empty corridor. Where’s Neil’s office? He sneaks down the corridor, peeking at every door, until he finally comes past an open one. It’s a small kitchen and a woman is in there, holding a mug in one hand and a kettle in the other. 

Chris clears his throat and she turns around. “Excuse me,“ he says.

“Oh, hi luv,“ the woman chirps and smiles. She has long brown hair and a kind face. Her white blouse is tucked into her high-waist jeans. “Are you lost?“

“Yeah, I’m looking for someone,“ Chris says. “Erm, Neil. Neil Tennant.“

“Oh, yes,“ she says. “You can come with me in a minute. My husband and Neil work together. I’m just making tea for Eric - that’s my husband. Would you like a cuppa tea?“ She smiles winningly. 

“Oh, erm, yeah, sure.“ 

The woman takes another mug out of a shelf, puts a tea bag in and adds some water. “What’s your name?“

“Chris.“

She laughs, a loud and wholehearted laugh. “That’s too funny,“ she says. “I’m Krysia. Chris and Krysia, that’s fab.“

_I’ve never heard that name before_ , Chris thinks, and he’s not sure if he’s as excited about their names sounding sort of similar. But Krysia seems to be nice enough, and at least he doesn’t need to stray through these corridors anymore. She takes the tea bag out of the mug, hands Chris his drink, then picks up the other two mugs and asks him to follow her. They walk down the corridor, turn right, left and then she stops. 

“Here we are,“ she says. “Neil’s desk is in there. He’s still upstairs I think. They’re in a meeting or something.“ She chuckles. “I’m awful, I don’t even know what my own husband’s doing. Eric just told me that he and Neil and Darren and some others were discussing something. Have you met Eric?“

_Eric_ doesn’t ring a bell at all, but _Darren_ does. That’s at least one name Chris knows. Even though the two times he’s met him were slightly awkward, Chris is happy to realise that not everyone here is a stranger to him. 

“No,“ he says, “But I’ve met Darren twice at-“ He bites his tongue. Maybe not the best idea to mention where he met him. “I know Darren.“

“Eric’s one of the main photographers,“ Krysia says. Her smile gets brighter. “Neil introduced me to him. We’ve been friends for years, Neil and I.“ 

_For years_ , Chris repeats on his mind. He’s only known Neil for - how long - not even one whole year, that’s for sure. Suddenly he’s asking himself if this Krysia person knows Neil better than he does. If he tells her more than he tells him. But then he tries to suppress the thought. Of course there are people who’ve known Neil longer. His life didn’t only start when they crossed paths. Chris himself, though, sometimes feels as if his own life only really began when he met Neil. 

Krysia points at the door. “You can wait in there if you want. Neil should be here soon. Oh, his desk is the one on the right when you come in. Next to the radio.“ 

“OK, thanks,“ Chris answers. 

“See you, luv.“ She smiles again, so bright that Chris can see most of her teeth, and he thinks that not many people have such an honest smile like hers. Then he faces the door and hesitates. What if someone’s in there, who’ll ask who he is and what he wants? He opens the door and finds himself in an empty room. Light floods in through three big windows. He looks around. There are four desks, a big photocopier and two shelves with overflowing file folders.

The desks all look sort of similar. The one Krysia has said would be Neil’s is a simple wooden table with a typewriter on it and several Smash Hits issues piled up next to it. Chris walks over to Neil’s desk to take a closer look. Being alone in this room makes him feel like an intruder, as if he was invading Neil’s privacy. He spots some pieces of paper with notes on them and he recognises Neil’s handwriting, at least a sign that it’s the right place after all. Against his expectations, Neil’s desk is quite messy - pencils, notes, erasers and several tapes are scattered all over it. There are also two empty mugs on his desk, both used. It baffles Chris that Neil’s desk here is quite a contrast to his desk at home. Never would he allow an empty mug to remain on his desk, or anywhere else. It’s a side of Neil he’s never seen, one Neil hasn’t allowed him to see yet. 

On the wall next to his desk, several Smash Hits and yearbook covers are hung up on the wall and on a pinboard Neil’s put photos of several famous musicians - a big one of Elvis is the one that sticks out the most. Chris is not really a big Elvis fan, but there are a few songs he knows, like _I can’t help falling in love with you_. Such a cheesy song, why is that the first one that comes to mind? Aren’t there any others, maybe _Devil In Disguise_? Yes. Much better. 

Chris hears the door handle being pushed down and hurriedly steps back from Neil’s desk, as if he had done something forbidden. His heart begins to pound against his chest. He stares at the door as it is being opened and then looks at a familiar face. It’s not Neil, though. It’s Darren. 

“Oh,“ Darren says, his hand still on the door handle. “Blimey. Wish I would ever walk into my own office and find some eye candy like you in there.“ He grins.

“Erm, hi.“ It’s all Chris manages to say. He feels his face heating up. Darren being flirty like that is something he’s not expected. 

“Waiting for Neil?“ Darren’s mouth twitches. He shuts the door behind him and Chris wishes he’d leave it open. Then he nods. 

“He should be here in a minute, he was right behind me,“ Darren says. He’s eyeing Chris from head to toe, then his eyes get fixed on Chris’s chest. “Nice t-shirt.“

Chris looks down on himself. It’s a warm day, so he’s decided to wear a pair of denim shorts and a white t-shirt with a picture of the Bee-Gees printed on the front. 

“Thank you,“ he says. 

Darren tilts his head. “It’s Chris, right?“

“Yeah.“ Chris looks around for something to sit on and then decides to sit on Neil’s desk. He moves a pile of magazines to the side and once he’s sat down, he folds his hands between his spread legs.

“Good to see you in a more civilised environment than Heaven,“ Darren quips. “You alright?“ He walks over to one of the shelves, takes a folder out and browses through it. 

“Yeah, fine. You?“ 

“Lovely, thank you.“ Darren turns around to him and smirks. “So, you’re picking up Neil, eh?“ 

Chris scratches his nose. _Picking up Neil_ could mean he’s picking him up from work, but it could also mean _picking him up_ as in hook him up, pull him, take him home for sex. And Chris cannot tell if Darren 100% means the former. He’s never been sure about what Darren thinks about him and Neil after having met them at Heaven twice, anyway; mind you, Chris is not even sure if Darren saw them kissing on the dance floor or not. 

“Yeah,“ he says then. “We’re going to a little studio in Camden now, so we’ll head there when he’s done.“

“Oh, yeah, he mentioned that.“ Darren takes something out of the folder, puts it away and walks over to Chris. He stops not far from him. “Hey, I hope that’s not too personal, but you and Neil are not…“ 

Chris’s eyes widen. “No,“ he says quickly. “No. I mean, we’re friends.“ He assumes that his face looks like a ripe tomato. 

Darren smiles appeasingly. “Alright, alright.“ 

All of a sudden, Chris can feel Darren’s eyes all over him. It’s a strange, new feeling, the feeling of a man (a man who is not Neil) checking him out like that. In a _I wonder how you look shirtless_ -kind of way. Or a _If you and Neil aren’t an item, it’s fine to check you out, right?_ -way. It’s almost as if Darren’s doing it to make Chris confess that him and Neil _are_ an item. 

Darren leans against the wall next to Neil’s desk. “Tell me, where did you get that t-shirt from?“ he asks. “It’s fab.“

“Oh, erm.“ Chris is very aware of Darren’s presence now. “I think it came from a shop somewhere in Kensington.“

“Looks superb. It suits you. And the shorts, too.“

Chris feels a smile creeping up on his face again. He feels flattered, even though he doesn't want to feel that way. Darren returns the smile and for the first time, Chris actually looks at his face - their encounters at Heaven were such fleeting moments, even though he’s seen Darren there, he never really paid attention. He’s actually not unattractive, as far as Chris can tell. His hair is short, thick and straight and the colour reminds Chris of chestnuts. Unlike Neil’s, his face is quite stubbly and his facial hair makes him look darker and more…masculine? It frames his narrow lips, covers his chin and goes all the way around his angular jawline and up to his temples. 

_I wonder how it felt to kiss these cheeks_ , the little devil on Chris’s shoulder whispers into his ear. _I bet it’s different from Neil’s face. Rough. Harsh. MANLY_. 

Chris tries not to listen to him and looks away. He’s afraid that Darren has noticed his gaze. He doesn't even want to think about kissing another man, it’s just the unexpected attention that makes his mind come up with something like that. 

“So, tell me,“ Darren says. “How come Neil spends all his time with a handsome thing like you and you’re friends? Is he blind?“ He laughs. “Or is he straight, after all.“

Chris doesn't know what to say. He’s feeling uncomfortable and flattered at the same time, as he’s not used to being complimented by anyone. And the fact that he’s feeling flattered is making him even more uncomfortable. 

“I mean, it’s quite possible,“ Darren continues. “That he’s blind. His specs are as thick as the print version of the Encyclopaedia Britannica.“

Chris can’t help it - he laughs. It’s comic relief, even though he doesn’t really want to laugh about Neil’s glasses, he likes them. In the same moment, the door swings open, Chris looks up and there he is - his tie tied immaculately, his checkered shirt tucked into his trousers, some curly strands falling over his forehead, and the very moment he enters the room, he pushes his glasses back up his nose with his long, elegant middle finger. Chris feels a shiver going down his spine when Neil locks eyes with him. And he suddenly feels awful for having laughed. 

“Hi,“ Neil says. He looks at Chris, then at Darren, then back at Chris. Behind him, Krysia and another man, most likely Eric, appear. 

“What have you been doing?“ Darren asks. “I’ve been here forever.“

Neil raises his eyebrows. “You may have noticed that I was the keeper of the minutes and there were some things I needed to check. They’ve actually asked about you again because we still haven’t decided who’s going to do the photoshoot for the new t-shirts, but you were already gone.“ 

Darren grins. “Relax, Nebbo. That’s not happening before next month anyway.“

Chris pricks up his ears. “Nebbo?“ 

“Are you kidding me?“ Darren asks, grinning. “You haven't heard of the nebulous Nebbo?“

Chris turns to Neil. “Nebbo, eh?“ 

Neil crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Careful, Chrissy,“ he says with his sweetest voice, before he turns back to Darren. “Anyway,“ he says, glaring at him. “I still need the photos for the next issue that goes to print. Make sure they’re all developed by Wednesday.“

Darren salutes. “Yes, sir,“ he says.

Neil doesn't look amused. “I got the weekend ahead o’me,“ he says. “Gimme a break, will you. What are you doing here, anyway? This is _my_ office. Not yours.“

“Ohhhhh,“ Darren says. “ _Your_ office. It’s Neil’s office now. Watch out everyone, you’re breathing Neil’s air.“ He laughs. “Well, I needed something from the shelf. And then I just had a chat with Chris. Been a while since I’ve seen him.“

Neil remains unimpressed. “As long as I have the photos on Wednesday. Well, it’s time to go now, anyway. Chris?“ He casts a glance at him, turns round and he’s off. Chris jumps off of Neil’s desk, stammers a quick “Bye-bye“ and follows him. Neil seems to be in a hurry and Chris has to run to catch up with him. When he finally stops next to Neil, he’s out of breath.

“God, you’re in a rush.“

Neil pushes the doors open and steps out onto the street. Chris follows as quick as he can.

“What was that?“ Neil finally asks once they’re a few yards away. 

“What was what?“

Neil glares at Chris. “I said _Pick me up_. Not _Flirt with my colleagues_.“

Chris stops walking. “I didn’t- Neil, what the hell? He just asked me where I got my t-shirt from.“

“And you had to sit on my desk _like that_ to answer? God, he was x-raying you with his eyes.“

“I had to sit _somewhere_.“

Neil turns away and continues to walk towards the tube station. Chris follows him. His chest and throat feel tight. Maybe he has been flirting. He doesn't even know. Maybe subconsciously. Maybe because it was so easy. And _normal_. 

“Neil! Wait!“ 

Neil slows down again. He looks upset. 

“How could I be flirting with anyone,“ Chris says. “I wouldn't even know how to do it. I think Darren just tried to be nice.“

Neil scoffs. “Darren tries to flirt with everyone who doesn't run away fast enough. It’s how he is. Gay, straight, single, married, he's a bit of a slut if you ask me.“

“See, you don’t need to worry, then. It wasn't even about me.“ 

“No, but…“ Neil sighs. “Hey, can we talk about this at home later? It’s not really the best place here, is it.“ 

“Yeah, OK.“ Chris would like to take Neil’s hand or just briefly touch his waist, or his arm, but he doesn’t. 

“OK.“ Neil gives him a tentative smile. “Do you still wanna go to the studio?“

“Of course.“ What Chris really wants is to go home and give Neil a big hug. Sit on the sofa and rest his head on his shoulder. Or lie down with him, not to have sex, just to hold each other and be close. He tries to smile back. 

“OK,“ Neil says. His smile gets a bit brighter, but there is still a lot of tension in his face.

Chris points down the stairs to the tube station. “After you, Nebbo,“ he says and Neil chuckles. 

“Thanks, Chrissy.“

________

They don’t spend as much time in the studio as they usually would. The atmosphere is still tense and they don’t make any progress, so they decide to head home after only an hour. For dinner, they have leftover pasta with tomato sauce. Afterwards, when the washing up is done, Neil sits on the sofa and reads a book and Chris goes to have a shower. In the shower he comes up with a cunning plan. He may make a total knob out of himself, but it’s worth it.

He gets dressed, returns to the living room and leans against the wall, opposite Neil, and when he peers at him over his book, Chris puts on his best, most flirtatious smile and raises his eyebrows.

“Hey, luv,“ he purrs.

Neil furrows a brow, glancing at him sceptically. 

“I gotta ask ye somethin’,“ Chris continues, trying to speak exaggeratedly sensual and emphasising his accent. “Have ye ever been arrested? Because it must be illegal to be so handsome.“ He winks at Neil. 

Neil frowns. “What?“ 

“Me doctor told me I’m missin’ vitamin U. Can _you_ help me?“ Chris lets his eyebrows dance up and down again and he can see Neil’s mouth twitching. He puts the book aside. 

One more. “Hey, have ye got a driver’s licence? Cause ye’re drivin’ me _crazy_.“ 

Finally, Neil snorts a laugh. “Oh God, stop,“ he cries. His laughing gets louder. “Jesus, _what_ are you doing?“

“I’m flirting with you,“ Chris answers. “Didn’t you notice?“

Neil, still giggling, gets up and walks over to Chris. He props his right hand up on the wall next to Chris’s head. 

“Well,“ Neil says, his voice low and seductive. “Is it getting hot in here, or…is that you?“

For a moment, Neil’s face remains dead serious, but then they both crack up. Freeing laughter of relief, that washes away the last bits of tension and awkwardness. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,“ Neil says. He puts his hands around Chris’s waist and pulls him a bit closer to himself. “I didn’t expect the thought of you flirting with someone else would hit me so hard. But it did.“

_Wow_ , Chris thinks. That’s the closest Neil has ever come to talking about his feelings. 

“I’m sorry, too.“ Chris returns the touch and puts his hands on Neil’s. “It’s all new to me. I was just…I mean, I’m not used to getting that kinda attention. I don’t wanna flirt with anyone. And I certainly don’t wanna do what we do with anyone else.“ 

“And what kind of things would that be?“ Neil asks with a wry smile. 

Chris pulls him in. “Things like this,“ he breathes, before he kisses Neil firmly and he feels Neil’s arms wrapping around him. He knows there is no way he will let Neil return to his book now. And Neil doesn't have any intention to do so, either. 

It’s not one of those evenings of endless kissing and lustful indulgence though, they’re driven by a great, burning desire and haste. Neil drags Chris to the bedroom and within minutes, he’s got the lube on his fingers. His rush and impatience wake something primal in Chris, an animalistic, hedonistic side of him, and it’s turning him on immensely. When Neil enters him fully, Chris moans loudly, his fingers are scratching Neil’s back, sweat builds up between them. Neil holds Chris pressed against himself while he’s fucking him, making it impossible for Chris to come. Every time Neil moves, he touches Chris’s hard-on and it’s driving him insane, but there is no chance for him to get any relief as he can’t reach down to touch himself, and Neil’s not showing any intention to help him. 

With a loud groan, Neil comes inside Chris and then sinks down, still ignoring the fact that Chris hasn’t come yet. Chris puts his hands on Neil’s butt, desperately, being so close but yet not able to finish it. Finally, Neil comes back to life and reaches down between Chris’s legs. Chris almost comes immediately when Neil begins to touch him, shuddering and shaking uncontrollably. 

He feels hot and sticky afterwards, and he’s gasping for air. His hair is stringy and sticks to his forehead, but he doesn’t want to let go. The feeling of the bond between them is incredibly intense in this moment. Neil’s put his arms around Chris.

“You’re mine,“ he whispers after a while. There’s passion in his voice, fondness, and it’s even slightly dunning. “You know that, don’t you.“

Chris lifts his head up. Neil’s face is serious. Chris’s brain, still in the post-coital stand-by mode, decides to answer: “Why didn’t you tell Darren that, then?“ 

Neil’s eyes widen. He obviously didn't expect this question, and he also doesn't have an answer. 

“Look, I…,“ he says, his eyes restlessly wandering through the room, but then he sighs. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.“

“Well. If you don’t want other people to flirt with me, you have to put a label on me.“

“Don’t tell me you wanna be _boy_ friends, please. I hate that term. It’s so juvenile.“

Chris rolls his eyes. “Not necessarily. But like, you know, these signs. _Don’t walk on the lawn. Don’t flirt with Chris_.“ 

Neil snickers. Then he takes Chris’s hand and fixes his eyes on their tangled fingers. “Well, we can be exclusive, if you like. I think we sort of are, anyway.“

“Exclusive?“

“Yeah. As in…don’t have sex with anyone else. Don’t flirt with anyone else.“ 

Chris takes a deep breath. “You’re gonna tell Darren?“

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.“

“Then yes.“


	15. 15.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Neil's birthday and Chris wants to know if Neil has kept his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, welcome - it’s _that_ time again, and I won’t keep you long, but as I promised, the original Pet Shop Boys have answered some questions! So let’s find out what they have to say - Please welcome SAM AND JOE!
> 
> Q: Which pet(s) is/are the worst/most annoying to own and why?  
> Sam: Ohhh, I’d say a fish tank. It’s a lot of work. Or horses, maybe…  
> Joe: Cats. They’re adorable, selfish arseholes, and they get away with it. 
> 
> Q: What are your favourite dance club songs at Heaven? Which songs do you hate to listen to?  
> S: I’m actually not much into disco music. Dunno why I get on with Chris, haha. I quite like Billy Idol. And one of my favourite songs is _Layla_ by Derek and the Dominos. But at Heaven, everything with a good bass-line.  
> J: At the moment, I’m quite fond of Kim Wilde, I think. She’s great. I don’t really like the heavy stuff. 
> 
> Q: What do you think about Chris and Neil's budding relationship? Is Neil a stick in the mud or what?  
> S: Hahahahahaha.  
> J: Oh, well, when we first saw them, we thought Neil was Chris’s boss, didn’t we.  
> S: Yeah. He can be really funny, though. And I think he cares about Chris a lot. Like one night, we all walked from Heaven to the tube, and Chris was feeling cold. So Neil gave him his coat.  
> J: It would actually surprise me if there was nothing going on between them, but they don’t tell us anything. They have this incredibly intense dynamic between them, y’know. Maybe it’s a bit too intense, even.
> 
> Q: How do you feel about what Jay's written about you?  
> J: Who?  
> S: The author.  
> J: OH. Well, I think they’ve done a good job so far, but I missed all the parts about how good I look. Like, does it say anywhere that I’m a 6 feet tall, athletic guy with the most amazing, fluffy brown hair, a six pack, tanned…?  
> S: No, because you’re _not_. You’re 5’10. But I agree, nobody knows how we look like, right? I mean, c’mon. We’re not just some side characters! What have we done to deserve this!?
> 
> Final one - Do you guys know Danny and Dev? They're ALWAYS at Heaven and they call THEMSELVES the Pet Shop Boys, too.  
> S: Impostors!  
> J: Oh, I think we did meet once, actually. Funny story, they also work in a pet shop in Ealing, but another one. Would you believe it. They actually know Chris and Neil, too.  
> Neil *offstage*: Oh, I don't know anyone called Danny or Dev. Maybe it's another Neil.  
> Chris: Yeah, me neither.  
> S: OK, this is weird...  
> J: Is this supposed to mess with our brains? My orientation towards this is that it's a coincidence.  
> S: I lost my orientation completely now, I'm out.

Summer reaches its peak on the 21st of June and suddenly, the days are getting shorter again. Quite often, Chris and Neil will walk to a tube station further away from the studio, or get off the train earlier, to have a longer walk home and make the most of the mild evenings, while they still have them. These walks have become one of their favourite things to do. Even after dark it’s still warm and they talk about the things they observe around them, about the people they see and the snippets of conversation they hear. Most streets are empty when they walk home, and sometimes, Chris will put his arm around Neil’s shoulder for a few steps. Rarely, but it still counts. 

The thought of being _exclusive_ is still enlivening Chris. Even though he isn’t sure he really gets what it means. Does being exclusive equal being a couple? Being in a committed relationship? Does it mean Neil is his boyfriend? The thought is exciting, though, and sometimes, when the idea flashes through his mind, he smiles to himself. On the other hand, nothing has really changed. Everything is still the same as it was before the word was spoken out. 

But Chris doesn't have the time to ponder about their situation. As July is advancing, Chris finds himself facing another, more important challenge—Neil’s birthday. It’s the first time they’ll actually spend one of their birthdays together. When they first met, Neil’s birthday had only been a month ago and when Chris turned 22 in October, he went to Blackpool to celebrate it with his family and didn’t even tell Neil about it. He told him once he was back, and Neil said he would have got him something if he’d known, but it wasn’t a big thing. It’s funny to look back at it now. They would only meet occasionally in these early months, have coffee or a bite to eat, discuss the latest hits they’d heard, the ones they loved the most, the ones they detested the most. And then part ways again, unaware of how things were going to evolve. 

But now Neil’s birthday is getting closer again and the truth is, Chris has already been thinking about an appropriate gift since June. Maybe even since May. His first idea was something from the shop where they met, but he didn’t find anything there. He did see several things which may be useful for their studio sessions, but he wants Neil’s present to be special and not useful. His second idea was some piece of clothing. So he went through some of the posh shops at Oxford Street and Regent Street and most of the time, he’d leave very quickly again, realising he couldn’t afford anything. He didn’t want to buy Neil another tie, that would be like getting socks for Christmas. Practical maybe, but neither very creative nor personal. 

Then there was the obvious one—a record. But which one? A new one they both don’t know? That could turn out horrific. One he loves himself? Well, that’s also not really the idea of a present. And finding one Neil likes but doesn’t own, or one he may like, turned out to be nearly impossible. Chris has no idea which records Neil is given at work and which not, and whenever he mentions one, Neil already seems to know it. It becomes such a frustrating undertaking, Chris almost wants to give up and get Neil a book. And then again, he wouldn’t know which one.

But then, one Saturday evening, one of many evenings at Heaven together with the Pet Shop Boys, he finally finds a solution for his problem. 

________

Neil, not the greatest lover of parties, has told Chris that he’s invited a few people as his birthday is on a Saturday anyway, but not too many. Some people from work, Darren, Eric and Krysia, amongst a few others. He’s also asked Sam and Joe and they were delighted to hear they were invited. Chris is relieved that most of the people won’t be strangers to him. 

“I hope they won’t stay forever,“ Neil says, while writing a list with things he needs to buy before Saturday. “I hate it when you invite people over and they don’t go away anymore.“ Then he realises what he’s said and looks up. “OH. Erm, I mean-“

Chris chuckles. He walks over to Neil, who sits at the kitchen table, puts his hands on Neil’s shoulders and bends down to his ear. “Sometimes they even end up in your bed,“ he whispers, then he breathes a kiss on Neil’s ear and feels him shuddering. 

“Well, most people aren’t as inspiring as you,“ Neil answers. “It never bothered me when you stayed here for a weekend. I liked having you around right from the start.“

Chris flushes. He’s not expected a confession like this. And he feels hundreds of butterflies in his stomach. Unconsciously, he begins to stroke Neil’s shoulders with his fingertips, until Neil takes one of his hands and holds it in his own. 

“You know,“ Neil says quietly, “it’s all new to me, too.“

Chris nods. He gives Neil’s hand a little squeeze. 

“Alright then. Let’s finish this list and then go shopping for Saturday?“ 

“Yeah,“ Chris replies. “Let’s do it.“

________

On Saturday morning, Chris gets up before Neil and sneaks into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, the kitchen is filled with the most delicious smells, and Chris is actually surprised how well it all turned out. Nothing is burned, the hash browns are actually hash _browns_ and not hash blacks, like last time. Chris turns the oven off, arranges everything on the table and when he looks at the result, his surprise turns into pride. Everything looks neat and tidy, just like Neil likes it (apart from his desk at work, apparently). Chris goes back to the living room to pick up his gift for Neil, which is hidden in a box behind the trombone (the one place where Neil would never search for anything). He puts it on the table, on the place where Neil usually sits, nods approvingly and leaves the kitchen. 

The next part of his plan is a bit more complicated and he’s almost sure that Neil will wake up too early. He picks up the synthesiser, puts it down on the sofa and carries the stand over to the bedroom. Then he returns to pick up the synth. He walks on his tiptoes when he carries the synth to the bedroom and sits it back on the stand, and he’s very grateful that it’s not a big and heavy one. He plugs it in. Neil moans quietly in his sleep and turns around. Chris takes a deep breath. He switches the synth on and pushes a few buttons. His heart is beating fast and he feels sweat on his forehead. He’s nervous, as if he was performing in front of thousands of people instead of only one. How can people willingly perform in front of big crowds and even be thrilled about it? _I’m never going to perform on a big stage_ , Chris thinks. _Never ever_. 

He lays his fingers on the keys and begins to play a soft tune, a simple chord progression. It’s not loud, the tune is slow and calm, and he keeps playing the chords until he hears Neil moaning again. He stretches his arms and rubs his eyes, and Chris begins to play a melody along with the chords. He shyly peeks over to Neil and smiles.

Neil smiles back. After a while he sits up, the duvet still pulled up to his chest. He’s covering his mouth and nose with his hands, as if he felt a little abashed. 

Chris finishes with his composition and turns up the volume. When he begins with his disco version of Happy Birthday, Neil laughs and he gets up, still covering his face with his hands. He stands next to Chris and waits until he stops playing, with pink cheeks and the biggest smile imaginable on his face. 

As soon as Chris stops, Neil flings his arms around Chris’s neck. 

“Oh my God,“ he says. “Thank you, Chris, I- I don’t have words.“

Chris is so overloaded with happiness, he has to hold on to Neil to keep himself from fainting. Making Neil happy is the most wonderful feeling. 

“Well, originally I wanted to wake you up with the trombone,“ Chris says. Then he breathes a kiss on Neil’s ear and whispers “Happy Birthday.“ For a while neither of them moves. Chris presses his face into the crook of Neil’s neck and he feels Neil’s hand tenderly stroking his back. 

“Which song was that?“ Neil asks eventually. 

“It was for you,“ Chris answers. “Just a little composition I wrote. Did you like it?“

Now Neil’s hugging Chris even tighter. “I love it. Does it have a title?“

“Not really. Maybe you could come up with something. I just called it _Rent_.“

“Why _Rent_?“

“You were talking about paying the rent when I started writing it, so I sort of associated it with that word. And I thought _Birthday Song for Neil_ sounded really naff.“

“It was beautiful. Honestly. By the way, what’s that smell? It smells like…“

“Oh, I hope you’re hungry,“ Chris says, taking Neil by the hand. “C’mon.“

He leads Neil into the kitchen and when Neil sees the table, his eyes almost pop out of his head. There are grilled tomatoes, hash browns, fresh toast, scrambled egg, baked beans, sausages and, of course, coffee. 

“Wow,“ Neil says. “When did you make all this?“ 

“When you were still asleep. Here, sit down. Oh, and you can open your present, if you want.“ 

“Oh!“ Neil turns back to Chris. “Oh God, you didn't have to-“

“I wanted to.“ Chris smiles. “Open it.“

Chris is probably even more excited to see Neil’s reaction than Neil is to open his present. But he sits down and begins to unwrap it, carefully, trying not to destroy the wrapping paper. It drives Chris mad, he would have torn the paper apart already. 

When Neil finally removes the paper and sees what’s inside, he stares at it as if it was the holy grail. 

“Chris,“ he says, turning the vinyl from one side to the other, reverentially moving his fingers over the cover. “Is that…“

Chris nods, full of pride. “Yeah,“ he says. “It’s _that_ record.“

“Oh my God,“ Neil says for the third time this morning. “Chris…How did you…“

Chris is beaming. Neil’s reaction is even better than anything he could have imagined. It all started almost a month ago, at Heaven, when they heard a song they’d never heard before. “I’d _really_ like to know the title and artist,“ Neil had said, so Chris went to see the DJ and asked him. It’s something he does regularly, and the DJ already knows him (Neil calls Chris a DJ-botherer because of this habit). After having found out the title of the mysterious song— _Passion_ , by an American band called The Flirts—they tried to buy it. And they found out that no record store had it. The shopkeepers hadn't even heard of it. So after a few unsuccessful attempts, they gave up. 

“Well, I have my ways,“ Chris says. 

“ _Where_ did you buy it?“ Neil still seems totally stunned. 

“I spoke to the DJ again.“ Chris can hardly speak as he’s grinning too much. “I asked him where he got it from. And he said he bought it in New York, where it’s very popular. I told him that I was trying to buy it. He told me to piss off.“ Chris laughs. “Well, then I said I was buying it for someone else and finally he told me about a record store in Lewisham that would get you everything you want, even stuff from America, if, you know, ask the right questions. Means if you slip them a fiver.“

Neil is astonished. “You bribed someone to buy me a record?“

“I did.“ Chris crosses his arms in front of his chest. “So I went there, bloody dodgy place, I tell ye. Could be run by the mob. Anyway. I asked them to order it and a week later, I went to pick it up. Risked my damn life for you, I hope you know that.“ What he doesn't mention is the cup of the tea and the biscuits they offered him when he came to pick it up, and that they gave him a five pound discount when he admitted that the extra fiver he gave them had been his last fiver. And he may have made up the part with the mob.

“That’s amazing,“ Neil says. “Nobody has ever done something like that for me. Or woken me up with a song.“ His voice has got a bit lower, as if he felt bad about it. He seems deeply touched, but Chris wonders if Neil believes he doesn't deserve it. 

“Well, I hope not. It wouldn't be special then.“

Neil puts the vinyl down, gets up and puts his arms arounds Chris’s waist. He leans in as if to kiss Chris, but then he stops again, their lips only millimetres away from each other. “You probably don’t even know how special you are, Christopher,“ Neil breathes. He doesn't give Chris any chance to think about it though—after he’s uttered the words he kisses him and if it wasn't for their breakfast, they would have gone back to bed, Chris is sure about that. 

While they’re eating, Neil proclaims several times that the food is amazing. Chris is on cloud nine. The feeling carries on even while they’re doing the washing up and cleaning the kitchen. When they’re done, Neil puts the record on, and now Chris also remembers how brilliant it is, Hi-NRG at its best. “It’s so good,“ Neil says. “That bass. It’s so catchy. It’s _sexy_.“ He studies the cover. “I don’t think that Bobby O’s really popular here yet, but I’ve heard of him before. Maybe we can find some more he’s produced, I have a feeling I've seen a few at work, actually.“ 

They listen to the song over and over again, while they’re getting themselves ready for the evening. Neil spends most of the day in the kitchen—he’s decided to make a cake and some food for his guests and Chris continues to work on the composition he’s played for Neil in the morning. Maybe they can work on it together in the studio next week, see if it can be turned into something useful. 

When Neil is done in the kitchen, they still have about two hours until the guests are supposed to turn up. Chris, still sat on the stool in front of the synth, has not heard Neil walking up to him from behind, but suddenly there are hands on his shoulders and chest and Neil’s lips on his neck, teeth nibbling his ear. 

“I haven’t properly said thank you, have I,“ Neil whispers. “Let me do something for you before these people turn up.“

Chris turns around and Neil kneels down between his legs, stroking his cock through the fabric of his pants. Chris, surprised but definitely not reluctant, lets him proceed. Neil has no intention to stop and continue in the bedroom, by the looks of it, and Chris is actually thrilled about Neil sucking him off in the middle of the living room, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He reaches down to the back of Neil’s head and runs his fingers through his hair. When he comes, Chris leans back and somehow touches the keys of the synth behind him with his elbow, which results in a loud, dissonant noise and it makes them both jump. Neil coughs, then chuckles, and coughs once again. 

“God, can you give me a warning next time,“ he says, rising up from the floor.

Chris laughs. He gets up and slips his hands under Neil’s t-shirt. “It’s my turn now,“ he says. “But I think the bed could be a safer environment.“

“Yeah, please don’t startle me again like that.“ Neil laughs. “I could have choked!“ 

________

The party itself is a success and Neil seems to be pleased with everything, people have told him that the food is fab and he walks around with a permanent smile on his face. When he laughs, his laughter seems to drown out every other voice in the room. 

Chris sticks with Joe and Sam most of the time, as they don’t know anyone and Chris isn’t overly keen to talk to people he hardly knows. They chat about music, about Ealing and Blackpool and Sam tells Chris a little bit about his own history of growing up gay in a small village in Kent. _I’m really lucky, actually_ , Chris thinks. _Blackpool seems to be quite tolerant compared to these other places. And I’ve never experienced any hate. Nobody’s ever even wondered if I was gay. Maybe because I’ve never really thought about myself as gay or straight or whatever_. 

Apart from talking to the Pet Shop Boys, Chris spends a lot of time observing Neil interacting with his friends and colleagues. He finds it interesting. It’s something he’s not seen Neil doing before, the way he and Krysia will say something to each other and then start giggling, the way he gives Darren or Eric a smack on the shoulder for some unknown reasons mid-conversation. Chris can see that Neil is close to these people, and being here with Neil, spending this day with him, makes Chris feel very happy and proud. He wishes he could share his pride and happiness with some of the other people there. Neil has introduced Chris as a friend, but he could have said something else instead. Chris tries to imagine Neil saying _This is my boyfriend, Chris_ , even though Neil said he doesn't like that word. How nice would it be to tell their friends and share the happiness. 

At around half past ten, Chris is alone in the kitchen. He’s gone there to get himself another piece of Neil’s homemade cake, and then realised how nice it was to be alone for a moment, so he leans against the counter to eat the cake and have a breather. He smiles. The whole day, beginning with Neil being so surprised and in awe when he opened his present, has been perfect so far. 

“Oh, all alone?“

Chris knows that voice. Darren has come in and suddenly, Chris feels nervous. Even though there is no reason for it, it’s just that he’s reminded of how he felt after Neil saw him and Darren together and didn't like it. And then there’s Neil’s promise. Chris still doesn't actually know if Neil really has told Darren or not. The way Darren greeted them earlier didn't give any clues. Maybe he can find out. 

“Hey,“ Chris says. “Just having a moment of peace and quiet.“

“Oh yeah, gets noisy after a while.“ Darren clears his throat. “Hey, uhm…I didn't scare you when you came to the office, did I? When you came to pick up Neil.“

“Scare me? Why?“

“Well.“ Darren smirks. “Thing is, when I see a handsome chap like you, I can’t hold myself back. So I hope it wasn't too much.“

“Oh, no worries,“ Chris replies. “Why, did Neil say anything?“

“No, nothing. But I thought I’d ask you anyway. I’d feel awful if I made you feel uncomfortable.“

“You didn’t.“ It’s not even a lie, Chris thinks. Darren didn't make him feel uncomfortable. The fact that Neil thought he was flirting with him made him feel uncomfortable. And the fact that he felt flattered by the thought of Darren flirting with him. 

“Phew.“ Darren scratches the back of his head with one hand. “Then…maybe, I was wondering, would you like to have coffee some day? And a less awkward conversation?“ 

Chris stares at him. Darren is asking him out. And he realises that Neil has not said a single word about their new exclusiveness. 

“Wait,“ he says. “Neil didn’t say anything about me, did he? _Nothing_ at all?“

Darren shakes his head. Chris fixes his eyes on the floor. Anger and disappointment arise inside him, creep up his spine and stab his chest with their sharp claws. 

“No, nothing. I was gonna ask him if it’s OK to ask you out, but I didn’t. I mean, I have been wondering about you and Neil,“ Darren says. “After seeing you at Heaven together, twice, and you seem quite close, anyway. But then you said you were friends the other day, and…“

Chris bites his lips. Darren sees it, and he begins to understand. 

“You’re not just friends,“ he says, slowly shaking his head. His voice is so calm and full of understanding that Chris almost wants to cry. “Am I right?“

All Chris can do is surrender and nod, he can’t say anything and he can’t deny it anymore. Darren sighs. “I’m sorry,“ he says then. “I should have seen it.“

“Not yer fault.“

“You’re not ashamed, are you?“

Chris shakes his head and Darren draws his conclusion from it. 

“So…Neil doesn't want us to know, at work. Is that why you said you’re friends?“

Chris nods again. 

“Damn idiot,“ Darren mumbles. “Nobody would give a fuck, not even the tiniest fuck of all fucks out there. Shall I try and talk some sense into him?“

“No, it’s OK.“ Chris takes a deep breath. “I better go back now.“ 

“Hey, Chris. If you ever wanna talk, then…you know where to find me.“ Darren’s lips twitch a bit. “Not in a date kind of way. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who’s been there, y’know.“

Chris compels himself to smile. “Thanks.“ 

“Cheer up.“ Darren winks. “Neil’s a stubborn dickhead, that’s all.“ He turns round and leaves Chris alone in the kitchen. 

When Chris returns to the living room, he doesn't know how to face Neil. _Go over there and give him a big smooch right in front of everyone_ , the little devil on his shoulder suggests. _That’ll sort him out._

 _DON’T do that, Chrissy_ , the angel counters. _It’ll make it worse!_

Chris remains close to the kitchen, considering spending the rest of the evening in there, rather than in the living room. Neil, completely oblivious to his surroundings, is engaged in a conversation with someone Chris doesn't know. After he’s been standing around on his own for a while, Sam eventually spots him. 

“You look a bit gloomy,“ he notes. “You OK?“

“Yeah.“ Chris hesitates. “I just realised someone who had promised me to do something didn't keep the promise.“

“Oh.“ Sam thinks about it. “That sucks.“

“And now I’m not sure if it will ever happen.“

“Well, it happens,“ Sam says. “Maybe this person didn't even realise that it was important to you, whatever it was.“ 

“Yeah.“

“Or sometimes we set up our expectations too high. I’d just go and say _Hey you wanker, did you forget you promised me to_ …whatever? People forget what they say. Even promises.“ 

Chris chuckles. He can’t even begin to imagine walking up to Neil and call him a wanker. 

“Don’t worry, honey,“ Sam says. “Gives you wrinkles. C’mon. Let’s find you a drink. And then I’ll tell you a story. I’m sure I haven't told you about my ex, whose name was Reg, and why I used to call him Veggie-Reggie.“ Sam laughs. “And it wasn’t because he was a vegetarian!“

________

The party goes on for a lot longer than expected. “I’ll make sure they’ll be gone by midnight,“ Neil had said earlier, but he must have forgotten all about it. When the last guests finally leave, it’s after 2 am. Chris feels slightly tipsy and he’s still not quite sure what to think about the fact that Neil has not said anything to Darren or anyone else at the office about him. He wants to know why Neil has promised him to say something, when he never intended to do it. The drinks have made him cocky and he doesn't simply want to ask Neil, he wants to confront him in a situation where he can’t easily get away. He’s not sure about what he’s gonna do yet, but he has an idea. Even though he’s not completely sure if he’ll be able to do what he has in mind.

When Neil shuts the door and locks it, Chris walks up to him from behind and puts his arms around Neil’s waist. He’s not wasting any time and while he’s kissing Neil’s neck, he’s already opening his belt. Neil takes Chris’s hands in his own hands and gently pulls them away from his belt, then he turns around.

“You’re in a hurry,“ he breathes, a pert smile on his lips.

Chris feels his face heating up and he’s not sure if it’s anger or arousal, or a weird mixture of both. He frees his hands and continues to open Neil’s belt and jeans.  
“Shut up,“ Chris mutters. And he doesn't give Neil a second to react to it, he grabs his butt and presses his lips on Neil’s mouth, kisses him, bites his lower lip when he realises the kiss is not hard enough. Neil moans. 

Chris takes Neil’s hand and drags him to the bedroom. They take their clothes off, glaring at each other with expectant eyes. When they lie down, Chris gets hold of Neil’s wrists and pins him down. It makes Neil gasp and Chris feels that this new kind of control is turning him on, not only a little bit. It’s already made him extremely hard, so hard that he’s sure he can go a step further. Do something he’s never done before. 

“Where’s the lube?“ 

“Chris…“ Neil is slightly out of breath. “Wait, are you gonna-“

“Yeah.“ Chris locks Neil’s mouth with another kiss. He doesn't even really know what he’s doing, he’s following his intuition. Neil points to the drawer and when Chris opens it, he finds both the condoms and the lube in there. Neil watches Chris putting the condom on and Chris can see both anticipation and disbelief in Neil’s face. 

Chris has tried to imagine before how it may feel to fuck Neil, but when he eventually kneels between his legs, it’s unlike anything he could have ever imagined. He feels Neil’s hot skin, tightness, and a strange kind of connection—something he’s never felt before. Every breath he takes seems to cause a reaction, even the littlest movement is transmitted over to Neil, as if he had become a part of Chris. Chris feels his heart racing and he wonders if Neil feels it, too. He’s completely frozen and doesn't dare to move a muscle. He’s sure he’ll hurt Neil if he does. 

“What’s got into you,“ Neil asks, smiling coyly and tenderly stroking Chris’s arms. For a while they remain motionless, yet connected in the most intimate way. 

Chris, propping himself up on his hands, bites his tongue. He doesn't answer. Instead he begins to move slowly and carefully, still afraid to break Neil somehow. 

“Oh God,“ Neil whispers, shuts his eyes and leans back. “Oh fuck…“

Chris realises pretty quickly that it will be impossible to do this for a long time. The stimulation is too intense. He stops moving again and puts one of his hands around Neil’s cock. 

“Why didn't you tell Darren about us?“ 

Neil blinks. “What…?“

Chris moves the tip of his thumb over the tip. “You promised me.“

“Chris, for fuck’s sake…“ Neil moans. “You wanna discuss that _now_?“

“Yes.“ 

“I-“ Neil inhales. “I couldn’t. OK? I couldn't do it.“ 

Chris increases the pressure of his hand a little and Neils moans even louder. “Why not? Are you ashamed of me?“

“God, no. No.“ 

“Then why didn’t you tell him?“

“It wasn’t the right…oh God…the right time.“ Neil clears his throat. “Chris, what- what is this?“

Chris bends down to Neil’s ear. “You said I’m yours,“ he whispers. “If I’m yours, then you’re mine. And now I'm taking what’s mine.“ 

Neil locks eyes with Chris, and Chris can see sadness, and also something deeper: affection, fondness, maybe even love. Neil puts his arms around Chris’s back and his hands wander down south.

“I’m sorry. I meant to, really.“ His voice trembles when he continues. “I was scared.“

Chris begins to move his thumb over the head of Neil’s cock again until he feels his hand getting wet with pre-come. “Tell him,“ he says. “Or tell me why I shouldn't be flirting with him.“ That’s something Neil has never clarified. Maybe because it would force him to confess his feelings. At least, that’s what Chris’s shoulder demons suspect. 

“Chris…“ Neil squirms underneath Chris. Chris moves his pelvis, still not very fast, but it’s enough to make Neil cry out even louder and it also brings Chris himself extremely close to his climax. 

“Promise me.“ Chris grits his teeth. Neil’s hands are still pushing him down and he knows that even the tiniest move could make him come now.

“I…“ Neil bites his lips. “God, I-“ He moans again. 

Chris thrusts into him, harder. 

“I promise,“ Neil says, one hand clawed into the mattress. “Chris, I- oh God, I’m coming-“

He buries his fingernails in Chris’s skin. When Chris feels Neil’s muscles contracting around him, he gets overpowered by an intense orgasm, too. Coming inside Neil is unlike anything Chris has ever experienced, it shakes his entire body and it feels endless, much longer than any orgasm he’s ever had. When he finally stops shaking, he thinks that he’ll never move again, they’ll remain like this until the end of time. Chris gasps when he pulls out and suddenly he feels very cold and incomplete. The only thing he can do now is keep as much physical contact as possible, so he curls up close to Neil and rests his head on his chest. Neil puts his arm around Chris and brushes his fingers through his hair, and Chris feels very vulnerable. The feeling of power and control has faded, and what stays is fear. Chris wonders if he’s gone too far. Put Neil under too much pressure. 

“I didn’t expect this,“ Neil says after a while. He looks exhausted. 

“Neither did I.“

“Chris, look…“ Neil puts his hand on Chris’s. “I told you what happened when I told my friends years ago that I had a…that I was seeing this guy. When I said we can be exclusive, I meant it, but that’s for us, y’know. Is it anyone’s business what we do in private?“

“It is, if a person thinks he could flirt with you,“ Chris says. “Tell him he can’t flirt with me because I’m yours. I don’t want everybody to know, Jesus. But if we’re more than just fuckbuddies, I don’t want this to be a secret, either. Makes me feel like a freak. Just be honest to those who ask.“

“How come you knew I didn’t tell him, anyway?“

“Well, to be honest, he asked me out.“

Neil rolls his eyes. “God, he’s ridiculous.“

“And then he somehow came to-“ Chris stops. He wants to say to the right conclusion, the conclusion of them being a couple. But as Neil’s still so deliberately vague about their actual status, he bites his tongue. “…to a conclusion.“

“So he knows anyway now. Isn’t that enough?“

“He should hear it from you. And Eric should know, too. And Krysia.“

“Oh, suddenly we’re talking about three people?“

“You work with them. They’re your _friends_. Darren seems like that kind of person who’d gossip, so you should tell ’em before it becomes a rumour. Or do you want your friends to hear from someone other than you that you’re…“ He leaves the sentence unfinished. 

Neil sighs. His eyes wander from Chris’s face down along his chest, scan his entire body, before they meet Chris’s eyes again. For a moment, Neil reminds Chris of an animal stuck in a cage. He knows he’s asking for something Neil doesn't want to do. But there’s no other way for Neil to get out of the cage than agreeing to Chris’s request. 

“OK,“ Neil finally says. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Chris smiles. 

“So…,“ Neil smiles back, and he pulls Chris closer. “Now, about this whole episode here—who taught you how to do this?“ 

Chris shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just talented.“

“You truly are.“ 

Chris rests his head on Neil’s chest again. “So you…liked it?“

Neil smiles. “I _loved _it.“__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few words, as things are slowly seem to be getting serious here. Chris is upset, slighty drunk and he's still very young and insecure, and Neil's vague behaviour makes him even more insecure. That's why he does what he does. Don't be mad at him for pressuring Neil, he's pleading for something he needs, really. 
> 
> Also: Passion by The Flirts is indeed a record both Chris and Neil have mentioned several times in interviews as a big influence on their music and if you haven't listened to it, I highly recommend!


	16. 16.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has to go on a business trip and Chris talks to a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh (this, by the way, is a quote from “Heartbeat“, written by the wonderful @coffeecakelatte. So if you haven't read it yet, head over there RIGHT NOW. Highly recommend.). What has actually happened, how can it be a month since I posted the last chapter? Anyway--here it is! A brand new chapter, quite a wholesome one even, with lots of cheesy song references (because you deserve them). 
> 
> Before we start, though, let me tell you that Sam and Joe were extremely pleased with the interview. So I thought, why not do the same with Darren? And guess what, he's already agreed. So go ahead, throw some juicy questions in the comments, ask him everything, he's very chatty and doesn't mince his words ;) 
> 
> And now go and enjoy. You've all been with me on this journey for a LONG time already, and we still have a long way ahead of us, but I'm incredibly grateful for the support. 
> 
> (p.s. Neil going to NY to interview Kool & The Gang long before the infamous trip in 1983 is a fact. Everything else is fiction. Apart from the journey to Heathrow being awful. That is also a fact.)

“There’s something I need to tell you,“ Neil says one Saturday morning in late July.

Chris puts his coffee mug down. Nothing is worse than a conversation beginning with the words _There’s something I need to tell you_. 

“What is it?“

“I gotta go away for a couple days. For work. Thing is, it’s a bit far.“

“Like Birmingham? Manchester?“

“Like not even in England.“ Neil sighs. “They want me to go to New York.“

Chris almost drops his toast. New York. That’s like flying to the moon. 

“I don’t even really want to,“ Neil says. “But they’ve decided that I’m going to do it.“

“And what are you going to do?“

“Interview Kool & The Gang. Look, I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to come with me, but you’d have to buy the ticket yourself and I’m only going to be there for 48 hours or so anyway, and it’s during the week. And I don’t even have a room for myself, I gotta share one with Eric.“

“Wow.“ Chris doesn't know what to think about it. He doesn't like the idea of Neil wandering through New York on his own. Even if it’s a business trip, so at least Eric will be there. But that doesn't mean Neil can’t get mugged, or kidnapped, or murdered, or even chatted up by a sexy New York City boy. “I mean, that’s… _quite_ far away.“

“I know. Eric’s actually looking forward to it.“ Neil chuckles. “I think Darren is gutted that he can’t go.“

“You know what? You should take one of our demos.“ Chris laughs. “If you go anyway, make the most of it. Find some cool producer who makes a record with us.“

“Like Bobby O?“

“Yeah, Bobby O!“

Neil snorts. “It’s a business trip. Besides, as if Bobby O would talk to me.“

“Coward. But, well, if he reads _The Boys from the King’s Road_ on a demo, he’ll probably throw it in the bin right away. We still haven't got a proper name.“ 

“Not everybody can be as cool as Sam and Joe and have a catchy name like the Pet Shop Boys.“ 

“Maybe we should ask them if we can take it on. As a tribute to them.“

Neil grins. “Yeah, maybe.“

When they do the washing up together, Chris observes every move Neil makes, the way he holds a glass or a cup in one hand while drying it with the towel in his other hand, the way he sometimes holds it against the window to see if there are any stains left, before he puts it away. Unexpectedly, he feels very protective over Neil, followed by a strong wave of affection. 

Chris walks up to him, puts his arms around him from behind and rests his chin on Neil’s shoulder. 

“You’ll be careful, won’t you,“ he whispers. 

Neil takes Chris’s hand into his own. “Of course I will.“

________

They leave early in the morning and Chris accompanies Neil and Eric to the airport. Neil was against it first because of Eric, but Chris insisted on it and finally Neil said that he couldn't lock him up in the flat, which Chris interpreted as a _Yes_. Or at least an _OK, fine, if you must_.

It’s the first time Eric is seeing Chris and Neil together since Neil finally stood by his word and told Eric, Krysia and Darren the truth about Chris and him. Chris doesn't know what exactly it is he told them, but’s a start. And just like Darren predicted, they couldn’t care less if Neil shared his bed with a man or a woman. The only thing they didn't understand was why he hadn't told them earlier. When Neil told Chris about it the next day, he seemed quite happy and even relieved because against his expectations, the world hadn’t stopped turning. But when it came to turning up at the airport with Chris, Neil acted as if it was like having sex in public. He tried to talk Chris out of it, trying to justify it with the terribly long journey to Heathrow, but Chris doesn't mind the journey at all. And when Neil finally agreed (or at least stopped saying no), it felt like a little victory. 

When they say goodbye, Neil seems a bit reluctant to give Chris a hug and he quickly lets go again. Chris wonders if Neil feels exposed, now that Eric knows about him and Chris, and if that’s why he doesn’t want to hug him and why he didn’t want him to come in the first place. Telling his colleagues was one thing, showing up somewhere together, like a couple, and then even hug each other is like a final confirmation. An act that says even more clearly _No, he’s not just my friend. Yes, I like men. Yes, he’s seen me naked. Yes, I’m fucking him_. 

For a split second, a feeling of regret hits Chris. By forcing Neil to come out to Eric and Krysia, he’s made him do something he didn't want to do. But then again, if they had heard the truth from Darren, that would have been a hundred times worse. It was inevitable. 

“Take care,“ Chris says before Neil and Eric head to the security check. “Give me a call if you can.“

“Look how he cares about you,“ Eric says and then turns to Chris. “I’ll look after him.“

Neil gives Eric a smack on the shoulder and mumbles something like “What have I done to deserve this,“ which makes Eric laugh. They wave again and then Chris is on his own. When he can’t see Neil and Eric in the queue to the security control anymore, he makes his way home. Upon entering, the flat feels empty and the feeling of being a stranger overcomes him again. And then there is the uncertainty. What is Neil doing? Is he alive? Has the plane crashed? 

Chris knows that he has to do something to get rid of these thoughts. And there is indeed something he wants to do. One phone call later and Chris is on the tube to the Embankment station. His destination is a small but cosy café on the riverside, close to the Thames. He sits down and tells the waitress that he’s waiting for someone. And he doesn't have to wait long—shortly after he’s sat down, the door swings open again and Chris gets up and smiles.

“Hi Darren,“ he says. 

________

Chris feels nervous. His hands are shaking, that’s how bad it is. A part of him is convinced he’s cheating on Neil, even though the reason why he wanted to meet Darren has nothing to do with that at all. But he’s meeting Darren secretly and he can’t help feeling rotten about it. 

“Thanks for meeting me,“ Chris says quickly when Darren sits down opposite him. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands and keeps fidgeting on his chair, trying to get comfortable.  
Darren gives him a winning smile. “My pleasure,“ he says. “I know this has nothing to do with an actual date, but if that’s as close as I can get to it…“ He winks. 

Chris feels the lump in his throat growing. It’s obvious that Darren finds him attractive, or at least worth to flirt with, and it’s flattering. Chris wonders what it is that makes him attractive to other men.

“I’m sorry,“ Darren says and he really sounds like he is. “That was very discourteous. You said you wanted advice on something?“

“Yeah.“ Chris clears his throat. “You said I could talk to you, so I-“

He’s interrupted by the waitress who appears out of the blue to take their orders. They order a cup of tea each and some sweet scones. 

“Sorry,“ Darren says again once she’s left, as if it was his fault. “Now. What is it you wanna talk about?“

Chris notices that Darren’s voice sounds quite different now—the flirty playfulness is gone, instead it’s now serious and sympathetic, and it makes Chris feel more comfortable. He stares at his hands. _Everything_ is the answer. He wants to talk about his and Neil’s whole history, their first kiss, the first time they slept together, their trip to Blackpool, the songs they’ve written, the secret hand-holding on the tube and the warm feeling he gets every time Neil smiles at him. 

Chris takes a deep breath. “Have you been in a relationship before?“ 

“Oh, yeah. Not only once.“ 

“With…“

“With a man. Yeah.“

“And was it…“ Chris doesn't even know how to ask. “Was it scary?“

Darren seems surprised. “Scary,“ he repeats. “Why should it be scary? I mean, retrospectively, one of them was definitely a bit weird, but scary? No.“

“I mean, because of…“

“Here you are, guys,“ the waitress trills and Chris almost jumps off of his chair. She puts the tea and the scones on the table. With a bright smile and a honeyed “Enjooooy!“ she walks away again.

“Jesus.“ Chris takes his cup and holds it with both hands. “Almost gave me a heart attack.“

Darren adds sugar to his tea. “I guess you mean whether it was scary because of our society, homophobia, that kinda stuff.“

Chris nods slowly. 

“Well,“ Darren says and takes one of the scones, examines it carefully and then takes a bite. “There are a few things you gotta be aware of, like some places are more tolerant than others, and you adapt. You figure out where it’s fine to show affection and where not. For example, mine and Neil’s workplace. Not a problem. They’re all very tolerant. Clubs like Heaven. Marvellous. St James Park…mhh, maybe not. Too many old fucks who think it’s still legal to execute us. Oxford Street. Not so bad, quite a few shopkeepers in the posh fashion boutiques are gay, too. In the vicinity of any biker’s club. Absolutely, if you have a secret death wish. You see, if you follow a few simple rules, there’s nothing to be scared about. I’ve never had any problems in restaurants or cafés, like this one here, for instance. Maybe the odd disapproving glance, but you learn to ignore it. If they can’t stare because you’re gay, they’ll stare because they don’t like your clothes or whatever. Some people will _always_ stare at others.“

Chris nods again, taking it all in. “What I don’t understand is why Neil’s horrified that anyone who knows us could notice. But when we’re in a bar and we talk to some people we hardly know, suddenly he doesn't care.“ He scratches his nose. “When I suggested we tell my mum, he got all bitchy, even though my mother _adores_ him.“

“He’s got an attitude sometimes, hasn’t he.“ Darren smiles. “But it’s not surprising. In clubs like Heaven or some bars it’s easy to be gay. You will almost stick out more if you aren’t. Neil knows that. And it’s anonymous. But people you know, people you love and who care about you, they are the ones whose judgement hurts the most. Does anyone in your family know?“

“My sister.“

“It’s good to have someone on your side already. Your parents will find out, sooner or later, and so will Neil’s. Parents know things, even if you don’t tell ’em. I told mine when I was twenty. But I was lucky I guess, they just said they’d always expected it anyway.“ He cackles and finishes his scone. Chris hasn't even touched them yet. He remains silent and stares into his tea cup.

“It’s pretty funny, actually,“ Darren says after a while. “You know, I’ve always wondered if Neil’s gay or not. You get like a sixth sense kinda thing, but I wasn’t sure and I know he had a girlfriend a couple months before he met you. And now I only found out because I accidentally tried to flirt with his…“

Chris looks up. Darren hasn't finished the sentence on purpose, that is quite obvious. He wants Chris to finish it. 

“I don’t know what he sees in me,“ Chris says. “He still doesn’t want to label it, he just calls it _exclusive_.“

Darren tilts his head. “So you’re more than friends, but you’re not sure if you’re boyfriends, either, eh? Did you say he’s met your mum?“

“Yeah. He came to Blackpool with me a few months ago.“

“Sounds pretty serious to me. I don’t think he’d done that if there weren’t some feelings on his side.“

“What exactly did he say to you at work, when he told you and the others?“ Chris asks. “I’m curious.“

“Oh, well. It was like _I just wanted to inform you that some of the parameters of Chris’s and my relationship may include physical intimacy. I do not wish to hear any rumours about it, which is why I’m telling you myself, and I believe you can all keep your mouths shut_. Something like that.“

“Oh dear.“ Chris can literally hear Neil’s voice in his head saying these very words. He couldn’t have found a more sterile way to put it. 

“You know what I would do?“ Darren leans back on his chair. “Just _be_ his boyfriend. Do all these boyfriend things and see how he reacts. Show your affection. Compliment him, maybe. He’s vain, he’ll like that. Show him that you care about him and your relationship. Have you ever actually told him how you feel?“

“Yeah. When I was drunk. It was a long time before, erm…“ Chris’s face is burning. He wants to talk about it, but it’s harder than he thought. “Before our first…first kiss.“ His blood is boiling in his veins, but he believes he’s caught a little sparkle in Darren’s eyes. For the first time he’s verbalised that they share this “physical intimacy“, as Neil has called it. And suddenly it’s as if it had become real, as if it had been nothing but a rumour before. Now the words are out, they are in the room, lingering in the air. 

“Oh, that’s a classic,“ Darren says. “Well, tell him again when you’re not drunk. Tell him how he makes you feel. The more open you are, the more he’ll see that there’s nothing to be scared of. 

And maybe he’ll accept this role of your boyfriend better then.“

Chris smiles at Darren and they share a moment of peaceful silence. He feels better after having talked about some of the things which were going round and round in his head. And wasn’t it easy, after all? Just a chat with a friend. Once the words were out, it was simple. His mates from school do it all the time—they talk about girls. Why shouldn't he talk about boys? Or one particular boy, rather. Chris feels himself blushing when he thinks about that particular boy. 

“OK,“ Darren says with an impish grin. “We’ve done the serious part. How about some gossip, details, anything. PLEASE. Or as Neil would say— _pur-lease_. He’s your first boyfriend, I take it?“

Chris feels like a giggly teenager when he nods, cheeks probably red as a beetroot. His _boyfriend_.

“C’mon. We both know Neil. In private, is he as bossy as he is at work?“ 

Now Chris can’t stop himself from giggling anymore. But it’s not because he feels embarrassed. He feels like this is the most honest conversation he’s ever had, after the one with Vicky, and that’s a good feeling. Finally he can share all these things with someone, he can be like his friends when they talk about their girlfriends. And there's no malice or scorn in Darren's words, just a chat with a friend who's interested in the other one's relationship. Chris has heard it time and time again, and now he can have a conversation like this himself. It’s like a knot inside him has been untied. 

“Working with him is worse than living with him,“ Chris says once he’s caught his breath.

Darren laughs. “That’s surprising. OK. I need to know. Is he a top? Or a bottom? I may or may not have a little bet going on with myself.“

“A what?“

Darren chuckles. “The top is the one who is the, uhm, active part during sex. The bottom is the passive, the receiving part. Mind you, you don’t have to pick one, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying both.“ 

Chris feels like his head will explode, his face is hot and he covers it with one hand, still giggling. 

“Out with it!“ Darren’s grin gets brighter. “Straight blokes talk about breasts all the time, I guess, and this is what we do.“ 

We. It sounds like Chris is part of some exclusive club now. _This is what_ we _do_. 

“I _can’t_ ,“ Chris says between laughs, then attempts to sip his tea and almost chokes when he starts laughing again. He puts the cup down, coughs and begins to laugh again, so hard that tears run down his cheeks, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s the light-hearted laughter, the relief and the feeling of normality. It overwhelms him. What a ridiculous conversation. How wonderfully ridiculous. 

“OK, OK.“ Chris wipes his eyes. “Let me just say, I’m probably not a top.“

“Well, I never.“ Darren leans back with crossed arms. “Damn. Looks like I just lost a bet.“

________

When Chris leaves the café, he’s beaming and the day seems to have got a lot brighter. The thoughts on his mind have been rearranged and sorted and everything will be OK, won’t it? He walks along the river Thames, watching people and boats on the river, wishing Neil would be with him. What could he be doing right now? Interviewing someone? Having lunch with Eric? Chris realises that he doesn't even know what time it is in New York. Maybe Neil’s not even awake. A tingly feeling arises from his chest. _He’s fine_ , Chris tries to think. _Of course he’s fine. He’s not tied to a chair with a gun against his temple, surrounded by some mobsters who believe he’s a British spy_.

He comes past the famous Globe theatre and stops. He likes the building, but he’s never been interested in watching a play there. He remembers Neil talking about it, though, and he has an idea. Without a second thought Chris turns and enters the building.

________

Due to the time difference, Neil’s arrival at Heathrow is scheduled for 2 o’clock in the morning on Saturday. Chris was gutted first when Neil told him, realising there was no way for him to meet Neil at the airport, but then he thought that it may be a good thing to meet at home and not in public. Neil, on the other hand, was furious, because it’s way past his bed time. Apparently it was the only flight they could get him, but Neil suspects that it was simply the cheapest one. There is nothing he can do though. He actually manages to ring Chris on Friday evening (his evening) and Chris, who has been asleep already, staggers into the living room to answer the phone.

“…ugh. Yeah?“

“Chris?“ 

Now he’s awake. And a feeling of enormous relief spreads through him. Neil is fine, and alive, and he’s taken the time to ring him. “Hi!“ Chris rubs his eyes. “I was asleep.“

“Yeah. I guessed. Sorry, I couldn't get near a phone earlier. And this is going to cost me a damn fortune, but I just wanted to tell you that they’re paying for a taxi for me and Eric tomorrow, so I’ll come straight home from the airport. You’re not gonna try to pick me up, are you?“ 

“You kidding? I need my sleep.“

“You do. It will probably be after three when I come home, and you’ll be sound asleep, you won’t even notice I’m there. Mind you, you wouldn’t even hear a bomb detonating when you’re asleep.“

“Well, I heard the telephone.“ Chris yawns. “And I heard you snoring last week.“

“I do _not_ snore.“

“That’s what _you_ think.“

“Anyway, this is getting awfully expensive.“ Neil clears his throat. “Please don’t try and stay up until I arrive tomorrow, just go to bed, OK?“

“OK. Just need to kick all these other blokes out first.“ 

Neil chuckles. “Make sure they don’t steal my grandmother’s silver cutlery.“

“Will do.“

“Right, I, erm…“ Neil seems unsure about how to end the call. “See you tomorrow then.“

“Sleep well.“ Chris smiles when he thinks about Neil going to bed. He hesitates a moment, then he adds: “Sweet dreams.“

Silence. 

“Oh my God,“ Neil finally says. “That could be the campest thing you’ve ever said.“

Chris tries to suppress a laugh. “Shut up. Better make sure you get back here in one piece.“

“I will. Bye then.“ 

“G’night.“

________

Of course Chris can’t sleep before Neil’s return. He tries, but he can’t bring himself to fall asleep and all he does is turn from one side to the other side, staring at the ceiling and going through some of his latest compositions on his mind, which usually calms him down enough to sleep. Not today though. He keeps glimpsing at the clock. When it’s half past one, he begins to get excited. Neil must be close already. And when it turns to 2 o’clock, the excitement level is off the scale. He tries to picture Neil and Eric at the airport, picking up their luggage, Neil complaining about it not being delivered fast enough, heading out to find the taxi that will drive them home.

From then on, Chris knows that there is no chance for him to sleep anymore. With every minute passing by, he gets more and more excited and nervous. A sweet nervousness that makes his heart beat fast and his body temperature rise. 

When he finally hears the key being turned in the lock, then the door being opened, he has to force himself to stay in bed and not run over to Neil and greet him. He wants to wait until Neil comes to bed. It takes longer than expected and he’s about to get annoyed by how long it takes Neil to sort himself out. He enters the flat, takes his shoes off (Chris is guessing that, because it’s what Neil always does first thing when he comes in), then he walks into the kitchen, back into the living room, rummages around in his bags, and the last thing Chris hears is the bathroom door being shut. When Neil finally leaves the bathroom and enters the bedroom, Chris sits up in bed and switches the lamp on the nightstand on. 

“Hey,“ he says quietly.

Neil turns around to him. “You’re awake,“ he whispers. Chris smiles at him and he feels his smile getting brighter and brighter and Neil returns it. He walks over to the bed, sits down next to Chris and pulls him into his arms. For a moment they hold each other close, Chris presses his face against Neil’s neck to breathe him in. He smells slightly different, maybe due to a new shower gel in the hotel, yet still the same. There are also tons of emotions running through him. Too many emotions in one go. So many that Chris can’t suppress a low sniffle.

“Hey.“ Neil frees himself from Chris’s tight hug and tries to meet his eyes. “You OK?“ He brushes his fingers through Chris’s hair. 

Chris nods. His eyes are burning. “I was worried about you,“ he says eventually. “Sorry. But I kept thinking that something could happen, and…I wouldn't even have known. Cause nobody would’ve told-“ His voice breaks. Now that Neil’s there with him, all the suppressed worries and emotions come to the surface.

Neil puts a hand on Chris’s cheek and removes a single tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb. “It’s OK,“ he whispers. “It’s alright. Don’t cry, babe.“ 

Chris’s eyes turn into ping-pong balls and the emotional outbreak is supplanted by surprise. He can’t believe what he’s just heard. “Wait. Did you just call me _babe_?“

Neil doesn't seem to be sure, either. “Uhm. I think so. It was spontaneous.“

Chris stares at Neil. He’s somewhere between laughing, crying and telling Neil how happy this silly word makes him. “Well. I think now that we’re exclusive and all, that’s legit. I guess.“

“Yeah.“ Neil chuckles indignantly. “We can check the instruction book again, though.“

Chris laughs. Then he thinks about his conversation with Darren and he takes Neil’s hand. “I missed you,“ he says with a low voice. It’s not the first time he’s missed Neil, but the first time he’s telling him. 

Neil looks a bit dumbstruck, as if it was the last thing on earth he’d ever expected to hear. Then he smiles, but he doesn't say anything, he seems to be overcome with emotion. Chris, still holding his hand, leans forward and breathes a kiss on Neil’s forehead. Then one on his cheek, right one first, then the left one. When he kisses his lips, Neil shivers and grips his hand tighter. 

Chris doesn't know for how long they kiss. Unlike the day he returned from Blackpool, he doesn't feel the overwhelming urge to have sex, it's holding Neil close, kissing him, being held and getting kissed what he needs right now. He feels like they could do this all night long. 

Eventually though, Neil interrupts the kiss. “By the way. I got you something,“ he says. “I wanted to wait until tomorrow, but you can open it now, if you like.“

“You got me-“ Now Chris is the one who’s shellshocked. Neil gets up, disappears in the living room and returns with a box. 

“I had to.“ He smiles. “I know how much you wanted them.“

He hands Chris the box and he opens it. It’s a pair of shoes. But not any shoes—a proper pair of Adidas sneakers, white, the iconic stripes on each side: two blue ones and a red one in the middle. They’re incredibly difficult to find in London, and even if you manage to find them, the prices are beyond ridiculous. Chris keeps seeing musicians he likes wearing them and he’s been wanting a pair for a long time. And Neil hasn’t even picked a random pair—they’ve looked at different models in a magazine a couple weeks ago, and Chris mentioned that he liked the white ones with the blue and red stripes the most. And Neil has remembered it, which makes Chris feel even more humble.

“Oh my God,“ Chris says. “These are awesome!“ He takes them out of the box and turns them around in his hands. “Thank you, I- I’m speechless.“ 

“My pleasure.“ Neil’s face is glowing. “Fortunately we had some free time to go shopping.“

Chris puts the shoes back into the box. “I also got you something. Wait.“ He gets up, opens the drawer where he keeps his socks and underwear and produces an envelope. “I hope you like it.“  
Neil opens the envelope, peeks inside and then he looks at Chris, almost reproachful and, again, shocked. 

“You’re mental,“ he says. “First you get me this record, now this…“ 

“I just came past the Globe the other day. I don’t even know what I actually bought. They said it was a comedy, so I thought there’s a chance I might enjoy it.“

Neil opens the envelope again and takes the two tickets out. “It’s perfect. _As You Like It_ is one of my favourites. Chris, I…I don’t know what to say, this is…“ 

Chris shakes his head. “I’ll go with you under one condition. You watch _The Sound of Music_ with me again.“ 

Neil pulls Chris closer to him, so close that their noses touch when he speaks. “As often as you like,“ he whispers before he kisses Chris, gently pushing him back down on the bed. And then neither of them says anything for a quite a while anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, kudos and comments are more than appreciated! I'm trying to upload the new chapters every Sunday, so stay tuned :D


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